Dreaming of You
by Mystica
Summary: Four Muggle girls made the mistake of falling in love with four wizards... and chaos ensued.
1. Lianne

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  Thank you to PikaCheeka, Rain in Fire, and Adelina.  They know why.

If you're wondering – yes, the original author's note has been removed.

_Part 1 - Lianne_

Chapter 1

            "Come on, Li, he's _really_ cute."  Nichole looked at Lianne beseechingly.  "Let me set you up with him.  You'll like him, I know you will."

            "I told you, Nichole, I've _got_ a boyfriend."  Lianne brushed back her dark brown hair as she bent down to get at her locker.  Out of her friend's eyeshot, she scowled at the conversation she knew was coming.  Why couldn't Nichole understand?

            "Oh, _him."  Nichole dismissed him with a wave of her hand.  "He's not real, Li."_

            "He's real to me."  Lianne rummaged around for her art folder and sketchbook.  "Can you see my sketchbook?  Oh, never mind, it's under my history book."

            "Don't change the subject, Li."  Nichole sighed.  "You can't date a book character."

            "Why?" Lianne asked absently, standing up and kicking her locker closed.  She could've carried on this conversation while asleep, they'd had it so often.

            "It isn't normal, that's why."  Nichole pursed her lips.  "I _really think you'd like Jeff, if you'd just give him a chance - "_

            "Would you cheat on Taylor?" Lianne interrupted.

            "Of course not!" Nichole said indignantly.  "What do you take me for?"

            "Then why do you expect _me_ to cheat on _Sirius?"  With that, Lianne turned around and stalked away._

"Autumn!  Hey, Autumn, wait up!"

            Autumn turned around.  "Oh, hey, Casey.  How goes it?"

            Casey sighed.  "About as well as you'd expect, considering I just got out of Mrs. Drake's class."

            "That bad?"  Autumn winced sympathetically.  "Poor you."

            "Yeah."  Casey grinned suddenly.  "But I _do_ have Paul in there, to cheer me up."

            "Oh, God, not the romance!"  Autumn made gagging noises in the back of her throat.  "Don't start, Casey, _please_ don't start!"

            "Ok, ok, I won't."  Casey shook her head in resignation.  "But you've got to find a guy _eventually_."

            "Got one."  Autumn waited challengingly for Casey to deny it.

            "Would it be a waste of breath to tell you otherwise?" Casey asked, laughing.

            "Yup."  Autumn nodded decisively.  She raised her voice a little.  "I love Draco Malfoy, and the whole world can know about it!"

            Several people in her vicinity turned to look at her a little strangely, but since most high schoolers didn't read Harry Potter, no one knew who she was talking about.

            Except for one person.

            "Excuse me, but did you say 'Draco Malfoy', as in from the Potter books?" a young-looking brunette asked hopefully.

            "Yeah, so?"  Autumn looked at the girl warily.  She was probably a freshman, as she didn't have the look of a hardened veteran that most juniors and seniors wore, and Autumn would've recognized a fellow sophomore.

            "That's – that's awesome!"  The girl's dark green eyes lit up.  "I mean… I've never met anyone before who… who actually – "

            "If you're from the psychology class, you can drop dead," Autumn snapped.  "I don't need to see a shrink, _especially not a geeky wanna-be."_

            "No, no, I'm not!" the girl exclaimed.  "I'm a Potter fan, too!"

            "Really?"  Autumn grinned in relief.  "Oh, well, _that's ok, then!"  She paused, cautious once more.  "You aren't in love with Draco, too, are you?"_

            "No, definitely not."  The girl shook her head firmly.  "Sirius Black's _my soul mate!"_

            Just as Autumn opened her mouth, the bell rang.  "Aw, crap!  We're late!"  She frowned.  "Say, what lunch period have you got?"

            "B lunch till the end of the year," the girl answered.  "You?"

            "The same."  Autumn grinned.  "Meet you in the courtyard?"

            "Sure!"  The girl gasped.  "Oh, by the way, I'm Lianne."

            "I'm Autumn, but I've kinda got to run.  Mr. Howe's gonna murder me as it is."  She waved, then hurried for her next class as quickly as she could without getting a detention from the security guards for running.

            Hazel buried herself in her book, trying to ignore the chattering crowds jostling and shoving around her.  Couldn't they see she was trying to read?  Just because it was lunchtime was no reason to push people.

            Finally, most of the students either drifted into the cafeteria or found other tables in the courtyard, leaving the junior in peace.

            Until two girls came up beside her.

            "Can we sit here?" the younger girl asked, tacking on "Please?" as an afterthought.

            Hazel sighed, but nodded.  "Don't bother me," she ordered, picking up her sandwich.  She didn't trust school food.

            It wasn't that she was anti-social.  She had several friends - but all of them had A lunch.  And in her experience, many of the girls who tried to sit with her were the prissy sort of girly-girl who wanted to try to gossip with her about boys, makeup, clothes, and who other girls were dating.  Hazel thought the last one was none of her business, had no interest in discussing the middle two, and would drop dead before spreading her love life across the school, which eliminated the first.

            She tuned out the two girls, burrowing into _The Fellowship of the Ring_.  So what if she'd read it before?  It was still good.  After a while, though, ignoring the other girls' conversation became difficult.  The older girl with black curls had one of those charismatic voices you couldn't help but listen to, and the brunette had a bright, carrying laugh that continually pierced her consciousness.

            Much as Hazel tried to avoid it, she ended up listening in.

            "Yeah, I've been in love for… probably over a year, now," the brunette was saying, grinning in a self-deprecatory sort of way.  "It didn't hit me till the second time, but then, wham!  Head over heels."

            "I fell right away," the black-haired girl admitted, grinning back.  "First time I met him in Madame Malkin's."

            Hazel looked up sharply.  _Madame Malkin's? she thought suspiciously.  _That's from the Harry Potter books - that's where Harry met Draco.__

            "Oh, are we talking too loud?" the older girl asked, her brown eyes just a shade too innocent, as were the other girl's dark green eyes.  "I'm sorry, we just get so excited about the Harry Potter series - "

            "You've read it, too?"  Hazel sat up straight, her grey eyes bright.  "I _knew_ that's what you had to be talking about, with Madame Malkin's!"

            "Yup, another Potter fan."  The brunette nodded in satisfaction.  "I thought so."  She grinned up at Hazel.  "I'm Lianne Treyvan, and this is Autumn… Autumn…"  She paused, frowning.

            "Autumn Vance," the brown-eyed girl filled in.  "Yeah, anyone who reads _Lord of the Rings_ is almost definitely a Potter fan, too."

            "I guess."  Hazel smiled.  "I'm Hazel Randel.  Nice to meet you."  She frowned suddenly, the conversation she'd overheard coming back to her.  "Wait - you're in love with Harry, too?"

            "Too?" Lianne echoed - then laughed.  "Aha, another psycho!  So Harry's the one who captured your heart?"

            Hazel drew away, cautious.  What in the world had possessed her to blurt out that _too_?  "I'm not psycho."

            "Course you are."  Autumn grinned.  "Same as us.  Don't worry, we're kindred spirits."

            "Sirius Black and Draco Malfoy are _our_ knights in shining armor," Lianne explained.

            "Speak for yourself!" Autumn said indignantly.  "I _won't_ be some guy's damsel in distress.  He tries to romance me, he can have a fist in his face!"

            Hazel privately thought that Autumn looked the type who just might carry out on her threat, too.  Definitely not a prissy cheerleader type.

            "You'd hit Draco?" Lianne asked in interest.

            "I don't do the romance thing," Autumn replied.  "No kissing, hugging, holding hands, or anything of the sort."

            "I would if it was Sirius offering."  Lianne grinned mischievously.

            "You know, he _is_ about twenty years older than you," Hazel felt obligated to point out.  "The fact that he's a book character aside, any relationship would be illegal."

            "Who cares?"  Lianne thrust her chin into the air defiantly.  "Soul mates are soul mates.  Love will find a way."

            "Could you get any more cliched?"  Autumn mimed gagging.  "You sound like an inspirational greeting card."

            "Actually, no, she didn't," Hazel countered, smiling.  "She was worse." 

            "Lianne Treyvan, you put that sketchbook away and go to bed right this minute!"

            Lianne scowled at her drawing for a moment, but called back, "Ok, ok, I'm done, I'm done!"  She closed the sketchbook with a sigh and transferred her art materials from the bed to her desk.  "Goodnight!"

            Her mother poked her head in the doorway, smiling at her youngest child.  "Night, Li.  Love you."

            "Love you."  Lianne climbed into bed as her mother flipped off the light.  She listened, grinning in delight, as her mother had to tell her older brother off when she discovered he'd put off his English paper until just then.

            Lianne stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance over it.  For the longest time, she'd been afraid of the dark… now, she wasn't.  When she'd fallen for Sirius, when she'd discovered that he lived in shadows, to hide from the Ministry, she'd begun seeing him in every darkened room.  All right, she was obsessed… but it had helped get rid of her nightlight, hadn't it?

            Her mind drifted back to the conversation at lunch.  _What if I really did meet Sirius?_ she wondered, already half-asleep.  _What would I really do?  She imagined kissing him on the lips.  _No… it would be fun, but he might not be too pleased.  After all, he _is_ a lot older than me._  Would she just introduce herself?  __How uninteresting.  No, it would have to be something more fun._

            Lianne's gaze fell on her sketchbook.  That was it, she could ask him to pose!  Well, he probably wouldn't, so maybe she wouldn't exactly _ask first, but she could show him her picture when she was done, and _that_ would be an excellent way to strike up a conversation._

            She drifted off to sleep, imagining out how her first encounter with Sirius ought to go.

            "Sorry, Autumn, I've got to go," Casey apologized.  "Mom says go to bed."

            "Talk to you later, then," Autumn said, smiling even though she knew Casey couldn't see over the phone.

            "Later."  Casey hung up.

            Autumn gently put the phone back on its hook, so as not to wake her father.  He'd never actually said she _couldn't be on the phone this late, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.  It was nearly midnight, and parents tended to have funny ideas about how late kids should stay awake, even on weekends._

            _Too bad I couldn't just call Draco up on the phone, Autumn thought with a grin.  __Wouldn't that__ be interesting?  "Hi, Draco, you don't know me, but I just wanted to say hello."  Sure.  And where would he get a telephone in the first place?  She laughed at her own wishful thinking.  __Watch it, Autumn.  You wouldn't want to go all optimistic, now, would you?_

            "Hey, Erin," Hazel said, answering the phone when she saw her cousin's number on the caller ID.

            "Hi, Hazel," Erin Conner replied, the stuffed-up quality of her voice explaining why she hadn't been in school that day.  "How goes it?"

            "Not bad."  Hazel twined the telephone cord around her fingers.  "I see you were sick."

            "A cold," her cousin confirmed.  "I should be back at school tomorrow, though… mom says it's one of those three-day bugs, and I had it all weekend."  Her voice brightened.  "But I did get a chance to read those books you've been talking about, though."

            "The Harry Potter series?"  Hazel grinned.  "How'd you like them?"

            "I… liked Remus Lupin," Erin admitted, and Hazel heard the blush in the eighteen-year-old's voice.  "He seems nice."

            "Yes, he does," Hazel agreed, her voice slightly teasing.  "Going to join the Lunatic Love Association?"

            "The what?" Erin asked suspiciously.

            "I met two other girls today who have obsessions just like mine, and now you say you've got one, too," Hazel explained.  "Lianne Treyvan and Autumn Vance.  They've fallen in love with Sirius Black and Draco Malfoy, respectively, though Autumn keeps denying it."

            "Lianne Treyvan?" Erin repeated thoughtfully.  "I think I know her.  Yeah, she's in my art class, isn't she?  Short girl, layered brown hair?"

            "That sounds like her," Hazel agreed.  "You should introduce yourself… in fact, if you want, I could introduce you to Autumn, too.  I think you'd all like each other."

            "We probably would."  Erin laughed.  "The Lunatic Love Association… I like it."

**Chapter 2**

_In sleep he sang to me,_

_In dreams he came - _

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name…_

_And do I dream again?_

_For now I find_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there…_

_Inside my mind._

            "Oh, no.  No, no, no."  Lianne shook her head violently.  "Pettigrew is _much worse than Voldemort."_

            "You've got to be joking, Li."  Autumn laughed.  After nearly a month, she, Lianne, Hazel, and Erin had grown to be close friends, and always sat together during lunch.  And argued about the Potter books, of course.  "Voldemort kills people.  He does the Muggle torturing thing.  He's the main villain."

            "I don't know," Erin broke in thoughtfully.  "I mean, at least Voldemort is _openly_ evil.  Pettigrew was a sneaky little traitor.  He double-crossed all his friends!"

            "Well, I was thinking more because he got Sirius thrown in Azkaban, but yes, there's that," Lianne said, grinning.

            "You're obsessed."  Hazel looked up from her book, _Magic's Promise_, shaking her head wryly.

            "So are you," Lianne pointed out.

            "True, but I'm not openly insane," Hazel replied.

            "Insane?  _Me_?"  Lianne stared at the other three in wide-eyed innocence.  "Do you really think I'm insane?"

            "No, Li," Autumn said reassuringly.  "Don't worry.  We _know you're insane."_

            "Speaking of insane…"  Lianne frowned.  "I had the _weirdest dream last night."_

            "Not the one about Sirius and the swimming pool of green Jello again, _please," Erin said, making a face.  "If that was it, I don't want to hear about it."_

            "No, I made that one up to frighten you," Lianne said, her eyes strangely serious.  "This one was… really freaky.  It was about Sirius, yes… but…"

~*~ the previous night ~*~

            Lianne stood in the middle of a huge hallway, looking around curiously.  What was going on?  She knew she was dreaming ("_I could remember going to sleep, and waking up is one of those things you tend to know about.") but where she was, she couldn't imagine.  Which was strange, since in __her variety of dream, she usually knew things like that._

            She saw several doors leading out of the hall, but she didn't quite dare go through any of them.  This could very easily turn into a nightmare.  Besides, if there was something here her subconscious wanted her to see, it'd show up sooner or later, whether she went searching for it or not.  She sat down on the floor to wait.

            After a huge amount of time had passed ("_I swear, I've never been so bored in a dream in my life!_") she heard footsteps.  "About time," she muttered, getting to her feet.  "Stupid subconscious, dragging a girl out of bed at this hour!"  Then, much to her disgust, the footsteps passed her by.  "Great.  Do I have to do _everything myself?"_

            She sighed, then walked hesitantly towards the door closest to which the sound had come from.  "This had _better not turn out to be a nightmare," she said threateningly to whoever happened to be listening.  Opening the door, she slipped through as quietly as she knew how.  Which wasn't very, as she immediately lost her balance by trying to walk on her tiptoes and fell over, the door slamming behind her with a clang.  ("_Which is different from normal _how_?"  "Quiet.  _I _am the one telling this story, thank you!_")_

            A tall, black-haired boy spun around, yelling in surprise.  He gave Lianne a suspicious look, which she hardly noticed.  ("_I knew him.  I_ knew_ him.  Not like you usually know people in dreams, but the way you know someone you've known all your life.  I couldn't have thought he was anyone else, not if he'd been trying to confuse me.  I'd know him anywhere.")_

            "Sirius Black…" Lianne breathed, scrambling to her feet, wishing that for once in her life, she could manage it gracefully.  ("_I don't know why I was so surprised.  I mean, he's kinda a recurring character in my dreams, but this was different.  Not just because he was younger, my age, but something about this whole dream was weird._")

            "You… don't go to school here," Sirius said, studying her in the puzzled way of someone trying to match a name to a face that's just vaguely familiar.

            "Er… no," Lianne agreed, making no attempts to hide the fact that she was staring outright.  He was just as good-looking as she'd thought he would be, tall and lanky, with big brown eyes and thick black hair that was just shoulder-length.  _This_ was the person she'd been trying to capture on paper ever since she'd met him in the book series.  "No, I don't."

            "You're American," he added.  Lianne was unsure whether he considered this to be a point in her favor or against her.

            "I wish I was British," she offered.

            He half grinned, before remembering that she was probably some sort of American spy or something.  Maybe the man-eating zucchinis had sent her.  "How'd you get here, anyway?"

            Lianne shrugged.  "I dunno.  I was just back home in bed asleep, and then I was here."  She looked around in interest.  "Is this really Hogwarts?"  ("_It didn't look anything like I'd imagined.  When they say stone, they don't mean that pretty white marble stuff.  This place was rock_._")_

            "Obviously."  Sirius sighed.  "Ok, I give up, who are you?  And how the heck do you know me?"

            "I'm Lianne Treyvan," she told him.  "And…"  ("_Well, what would you have said?  I mean, 'you're a character in a book I read' seems to lack that certain something.")            "And…" Sirius prompted.  "You were going to say how you know me."_

            "I'm special?" Lianne tried, falling back on the time-honored response of people everywhere who don't want to give away all their information.

            "I'm special, too," Sirius said calmly.  "I expect my suddenly finding myself outside the front hall has something to do with you?"

            "Huh?" Lianne asked, confused.  ("_As usual."  "_Do you want to hear this or not?  Shush!_")_

            "Like you, I was in bed, asleep, until I suddenly found myself out here in the middle of the school, very far away from Gryffindor Tower.  I was about to go back to bed when you fell over back there."  Sirius narrowed his eyes at her.  "And you still haven't explained how you know me."

            "Wow, that's really weird," Lianne said, ignoring the demands for an explanation.  "Usually my dreams are a lot more straightforward than this.  And you always seem to know how it is I know you."

            "You dream about me?"  Sirius clearly didn't know whether to be flattered or disturbed, and after several moments of being unable to decide, settled on bewildered.

            "Um… sorta kinda maybe," Lianne said, grinning embarrassedly.  "I mean, I'm dreaming now, right?"

            Sirius blinked.  "No, _I'm dreaming.  This is __my dream, I'm sure I'd know if it wasn't."_

            Lianne blinked, dumfounded. ("_Well, it's not exactly the sort of thing you expect.  Maybe you don't know if you're dreaming, but the other people never insist that it's _their_ dream."  "They do in Wonderland."  "Yes, but I'm not Alice._")  "_Your dream?"  She smiled sweetly.  "So _you_ dream about _me_?  Why, Sirius Black, I am honored!"_

            Sirius blushed, looking annoyed with himself.  Then he seemed to decide that served no useful purpose, and was annoyed with Lianne instead.  "There you go again, acting like you know me!"

            "Of course I do, if it's your dream," she pointed out.  "Rather a dull dream, isn't it?  Couldn't you have made it more interesting?  A few flying saucers, or maybe a dragon or two?  That's not too much to ask, is it, after you yanked me out of a sound sleep to come visit you here?"

            "I've met dragons, you wouldn't like them," Sirius told her, rubbing his shoulder ruefully.  "I've got a scar that'll take _years_ to fade, after James got the bright idea to see if we could track down some wild British dragons last summer."  He glared at her.  "And my dreams are _not uninteresting!"_

            "This one is," Lianne replied.  "Are you sure you don't want to make it more interesting?"

            "How am I supposed to do that?" Sirius snapped. ("_Now we know why Li hasn't got a boyfriend.  Her method of showing she likes someone is to annoy him to death."  "Quiet, you.")_

            "You could try this."  Lianne moved forward to kiss him…

            "And…" Erin prompted when Lianne stopped talking.

            "And my brother knocked a table over on his way to the bathroom."  Lianne scowled.  "I still haven't forgiven him.  That dream might've been weird, but it was the best one I've had yet."

            "You're lucky."  Hazel grinned.  "I wish I could have a dream like that about Harry.  You'd better write yours down, you'll kick yourself if you forget it."

            "First thing I did," Lianne said, somewhat indignantly.  "And I'd _never_ forget this dream.  I can still remember it, as if it actually happened."

            "That _is weird."  Erin frowned thoughtfully._

"Even for you," Autumn added.

            "Gee, thanks."  Lianne made a face.

            Autumn opened her mouth to make a retort, but the bell cut her off, signaling the end of lunch.  "Oh, wonderful.  See you all tomorrow, then."  With that, they scattered their separate ways.

            Autumn laid back on her bed, playing with the telephone cord.  Her father was out, and wouldn't be home till past midnight.  Normally, she'd call one of her friends, but Casey was out of town, Erin was studying, Hazel wasn't home, and Lianne's line was busy.  She supposed she could always study for one of her classes, but she didn't really have anything in particular she felt like going over.  She wished someone would call her.

            It was like a little voice had whispered in her ear, "_Granted."  The telephone jangled impatiently, waiting for her to lift it and speak._

            She snatched it up.  But before she could say a word, the person on the other end snapped, "Yes?  What?"

            "Sorry?"  Autumn frowned.  This was a boy's voice, about her age, but not someone she knew from school.  She'd have remembered his voice, a light tenor that would be pleasant to listen to, if only he'd speak more gently.  "Who's calling, please?"

            "What do you mean, _calling_?  You called me!" the boy sneered querulously.  "And it's Draco Malfoy.  Who did you think it was?"

Author's Note:  Yes, I know, where did Draco get a phone?  All will be explained in the next part, which will quite cleverly be titled "Autumn".  Anyway, disclaimer.  Autumn, Hazel, and Erin belong to the authors they are based upon.  Lianne is mine.  Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling, who is kind enough to let us fanfic writers play with her characters.  The various books I mentioned belong to their respective authors.  The other characters are - I'm pretty sure - all mine.  Zhai'helleva!


	2. Autumn

The Dream That Came True

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:Part two, as promised.Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I love you all very much.And no, I'm not going to ignore my other story.Serena, my dearest darling muse, won't let me.She isn't fond of this story, probably because she isn't in it.

**_Part 2 - Autumn_**

** **

**Chapter 3**

_ _

_Sing once again with me_

_Our strange duet._

_My power over you_

_Grows stronger yet._

_And though you turn from me_

_To glance behind,_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there…_

_Inside your mind._

"So what did you say to him?" Erin asked, as interested in Autumn's story as Hazel and Lianne were.

"Nothing.I hung up on him."Autumn gave Erin a Look."You don't think I'm going to actually waste my time talking to some idiot pretending to be Draco, do you?"She scowled suspiciously at the surrounding people."I bet someone's been listening in on our conversations, and thought it would be a fun joke."

"Probably."Erin nodded her agreement."Just making sure you knew."

"Oh, come on," Autumn scoffed."Like _I would believe it was __really Draco Malfoy…"_

On her way to her next class, Autumn had to pass the payphone, and she nearly had a heart attack when it started ringing just as she went by.She glared at it for a moment, then shrugged and answered it.

The person on the other end managed to speak before she did."Yeah, what?"

"You again?"Autumn slammed the phone back onto the hook and stalked off down the hall, hoping she'd broken the eardrum of the Draco Malfoy impersonator.

"And that's _twice he's called me, pretending to be Draco!" Autumn concluded after a satisfying ten minutes of ranting to her friend Casey over the phone._

"Did he mean to get you the second time?" Casey wondered."He could've been just calling the school payphone, and you getting him could've been a coincidence."

"There's no such thing as coincidence, only conspiracies that haven't been discovered yet," Autumn retorted, pacing as much of her room as she could reach, tethered by the phone cord as she was."What I want to know is, why is he picking on _me?Why not pester someone more gullible?"_

"You could ask him," Casey suggested."If he keeps calling you, that is.He might lay off, and you'd never have to deal with him again."

"True," Autumn agreed, just as a loud beep sounded in her ear."Oh, blast, someone's calling in the other line.I'll be right back."

Pressing the flash button, Autumn put Casey on hold."Hello," she said politely, in case it was a friend of her father's.

"You.I thought so."It was that boy, _again._

"You're the one who keeps calling me," Autumn told him irritably, thinking ofCasey's advice."Why are you calling me, anyway?"

"I'm not.You're calling me," he insisted.

Autumn narrowed her eyes in annoyance."Fine.Whatever.I have someone on the other line, so hold on a second, and I'll be right back."She switched over to Casey."Guess what.It's him."

"Really?What'd he say?" Casey asked eagerly.

"I'm calling him, apparently."Autumn snorted."He's trying to mess with me, that's what I think."

"Mess with him right back," Casey advised."Look, mom wants me to do the dishes, so I've gotta go.Talk to your mystery boy.See you later!"

"See you."Autumn switched lines again."You there?"

"Yes," he said sullenly."You left."

"Obviously.I _said I was switching lines," Autumn reminded him."So do you have a name?"_

"Draco Malfoy."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?It's true!Anyway, who else would I be?"

"Some idiot trying to freak me out."

He sighed in exasperation."Americans."

"Oh, so now you're going to claim you're British?"Autumn laughed mockingly.He had a British accent, sure, but that could be faked.Hazel could do a good imitation, and she sure wasn't British, so obviously it could be learned.

"I _am British!" the boy snapped, insulted."Honestly, what do you people learn over there?Or do you just not listen to your Headmistress?"_

"My _what?"Ok, now she __knew he was losing it."I'm at home, idiot, as you ought to know, having called me here!"_

"Your Headmistress?Juliet Anderson?" he said, speaking slowly, as if to a five-year-old."Remember her?She, Dumbledore, and the other school heads arranged this stupid exchange thing.As if it weren't bad enough that we have to deal with students from other schools, we've got to use these idiotic Muggle devices to do it!"

Autumn sighed."You aren't fooling anyone," she told him."I know perfectly well you aren't Draco Malfoy."

"What are you, insane?" he demanded incredulously."I know you heard me, you just quoted me on it!What's wrong with you?"

"Draco Malfoy does not exist, much as I might wish otherwise," Autumn said evenly."He is a character in the Harry Potter books - "

"The _what?" he interrupted._

"The Harry Potter books," Autumn repeated, irritated."You must have heard of them, how else would you know who Draco Malfoy is?"

"I know because I'm him," the boy sneered."And I admit there probably is some moron out there writing books about Potter, but I _know I am not in them.I wouldn't want to be!Sharing a book with Potter?No, thank you."_

Autumn rolled her eyes."So you want me to believe you're really Draco Malfoy, you're really at a magical school in Scotland, and you're really a wizard?"

"Well, it _is true," the boy said snootily._

Autumn stared at the receiver for a moment.Then she hung up on him again.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Lianne demanded, annoyed."You could at least talk to the boy!"

"He's a raving lunatic," Autumn said calmly, scowling at a page of chemistry notes."That or an idiot.Personally, I think he's both."

"He might just want to talk to you and not know how," Hazel suggested, putting down her copy of _The Tower and the Hive._

"Well, he's going about it all wrong, if that's what he's after."Autumn gave up on studying and shut her notebook."After being hung up on three times, maybe he'll get the idea."

"Wouldn't it be weird if it _was Draco?" Lianne said, smiling dreamily."He could come on his broomstick to whisk you off to Hogwarts - "_

"Um, Li, there is a vital flaw in that plan," Erin said, grinning."Draco does not exist."

Lianne gave Erin a reproachful glare."A minor problem in the face of true love."

"Well, no one's whisking me anywhere any time soon," Autumn said firmly."At least, not if I have anything to say about it."

"You might not," Hazel said absently, most of her attention involved in her book again. "I mean, you never know."

"You again?Stop calling me!" Autumn shouted.

"I'm not!You're the one who's calling me, or can't your astoundingly small intellect grasp that?" the boy who insisted he was Draco yelled back.The crack of a phone being slammed down rang in Autumn's ear.

Autumn narrowed her eyes.Fine.He wanted to believe that, let him.She'd call him on it.She marched out to the living room and picked up the caller ID.Pressing the Back button, the words _Malfoy, Draco flashed on the little screen, along with an overseas number._

"I don't believe it."Autumn pinched herself hard."I _do not believe it."She scribbled the number down, stalked back to her room, and dialed it._

"What now?"It was him!Autumn rolled her eyes at her own stupidity.Of course it was him.Who else would it be?

"Ok, fine.You're a computer genius, or something," she conceded with ill grace."How'd you rig my caller ID?"

"I didn't rig anything," he said testily."What's a 'caller ID', anyway?"A new suspicion came over his voice."Are you a Muggle?"

"Yeah.So?"Autumn felt oddly defensive of her lack of magic.All right, so she scoffed at the people she disliked by calling them Muggles, but it was different the way he said it.Nastier than an inside joke.

"Wonderful.A Muggle."The disgust in the boy's tone was plain."And here I thought an American witch would be bad.I suppose those gits running this whole scheme messed up."

"What scheme?" Autumn asked curiously, before she remembered she didn't believe any of this.He was too convincing for comfort!

"First, the combined school boards make Muggle Studies mandatory!" the boy said vehemently, and Autumn recognized the beginnings of what was clearly a long-time rant."As if we need to know about a world without magic!Then, they go and decide the schools don't interact enough.So they're making us talk on these laughable Muggle contraptions to students at other schools!Supposedly, it's a 'closed magical network' and will only work to other devices in the network, but obviously, they made a mistake with that part.A _Muggle!"_

"At least I don't belong in the loony bin," Autumn retorted, stung."You're a Muggle yourself!"

"I'm _not!" he gasped in outrage."How __dare you say such a thing?"_

"Well, it _is true," Autumn said in a perfect imitation of his snooty tone from before._

"Muggle riff-raff."The boy snorted.

"Excuse me?" Autumn said incredulously."Did you just insult me _to my face?"_

"You know, I rather think I did!" he sneered. "So?"

"Well, I'll have you know that _you are the single rudest person I have ever had the displeasure of speaking to in my life!" Autumn exploded."Even your ancestral __pigeon would be ashamed of you!The half-breed monkey you have for a grandmother must be writhing in her muckheap!And your mother, who was obviously a street-walking baboon or an unusually stupid Cornish Pixie, probably died of humiliation long ago!"_

"My mother is alive, healthy, and quite human, thank you," he said coldly."Are you quite through?"

"Not remotely!" Autumn yelled, still in the powerful grip of her fury."You have the manners of a wild _pig!You __dare to call me up at my own home and mock me, and lie to me, and insult me!You claim to be what I __know you can't be, for the express purpose of putting me through pain, and you've probably got a bunch of friends over there laughing, thinking this is __funny!Well, anyone who's listening, you can just - "_

"There's no one listening," he broke in, insulted."And I happen to have very good manners!"

"Hah!" Autumn snarled."Could've fooled me!"

"Why should I waste courtesy on a Muggle?" he snapped."You're nothing but a magicless freak - "

"And you claim to be polite!" Autumn growled."I ought to have you arrested for harassment!"

"After you've been calling me?" he scoffed."Fine case that would make!And you'd lose."

"Would not!"

"Would so!"

"Would not!"

"Would so!"

"Would not!"

"I refuse to be drawn into this sort of argument!" the boy snapped."Especially not with a Muggle!"

"Too late."Autumn smirked."And I'd give up on the Mighty Wizard act.You're only fooling yourself.You're only good point is good taste on which wizard to pretend to be."

"I'm not pretending," he said stubbornly.

"Are so."

"Am not."

"Are so."

"Am no- "He caught himself.

"Gotcha," Autumn said smugly.

"Autumn?"She jumped as her dad called her.She'd almost forgotten he was in the house."Come on, we're going to dinner!"

"Blast!I need to go, but we can finish this argument another time."

Autumn was about to hang up when he protested, "Hey, wait, don't you have a name?"

"What do you care?"Autumn sighed in exasperation."Autumn, alright?I'm Autumn.Goodbye."She hung the phone up with a decisive click.

"Good.You're talking to him," Lianne said approvingly.

"Why are you so excited about all this?" Autumn demanded irately."It's just some idiot harassing me."

"Some idiot pretending to be Draco," Lianne corrected.

"It's because she's having those weird dreams," Erin said, grinning."She thinks everyone should have some sort of link to their beloved fantasy man."

"And so they should," Lianne agreed, smiling broadly.

"Oh!Are you still having those dreams?"Hazel turned to Lianne with a gasp."It wasn't just a one-time thing?"

"Nope, real as ever," Lianne replied, frowning in confusion."Why?"

"I…"Hazel looked down at her book, as though for support."I think I'm having them, too."

Author's Note:Coming soon… Part 3, "Hazel." (Pattern?What pattern?)Disclaimer?Please see the first part.However, the first part of the sequence where Autumn was insulting Draco is not in fact mine.I got most of it out of _The Year of the Griffin, by Diana Wynne Jones, except for a few words I changed.Oh, and the song at the beginning of the chapters is "The Phantom of the Opera" from __The Phantom of the Opera.Wow, they're as good at naming things as I am.And yes, this part is shorter than the first.That's cause the first one had two chapters.This has only one.Most of my chapters will probably be this length.Parts only get long when there are multiple chapters.Anyhow, Mysti is very busy with school at the moment (ever since August seventh *scowl*) and can't write as much as she wishes.So how often will there be new parts of this?I honestly don't know.However often I can write them.__Hopefully at least a chapter every two weeks, but I tend to make optimistic estimates.So… sorry… *cowers from evil glares*Well, I'm done talking now.Zhai'helleva!_

Love,

Mysti


	3. Hazel

The Dream That Came True

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:Part three.Yep.Part three.

**_Part 3 - Hazel_**

**Chapter 4**

_Those who have seen your face_

_Draw back in fear._

_I am the mask you wear…_

_It's me they hear._

_Your spirit and my voice_

_In one combined._

_The Phantom of the Opera is there…_

_Inside your mind._

~*~ flashback to the previous night ~*~

"What in the world…"Hazel stared around the room in disbelief.It looked vaguely like a classroom, with the rows of desks and all, but the dark stone walls and the distinct _underground feeling she was getting didn't feel at all like any classroom she'd ever been in before.__How did I get here? she wondered.__I could've sworn I was in bed…_

Then she realized what had to be going on._Oh.I see.This is a dream.Well, that made sense.Somewhat.She was dreaming about being in an underground room with desks and stone walls.And light.It never occurred to her that she shouldn't have been able to see. (__"It's not the sort of thing you think of.You just sort of assume you will__ be able to see, even though it's dark.")_

Then, "Who are you?"

Hazel turned hastily, eyes widening in shock.(_"It was that voice.I'd never heard it before, but I knew__ it.Just… perfect.")"Harry Potter!"_

The boy sighed, rubbing wearily at his messy black bangs with the hand that wasn't holding his lit wand."Yes, that's right, Harry Potter.Let's all gawk like three-year-olds.Go right ahead.I'm too tired to care."

"Sorry."Hazel blushed, looking down.She realized with a jolt of horror that she was wearing her nightdress.(_"I just thank my lucky stars I hadn't been sleeping in a Hogwarts shirt, or something!")_

Harry shrugged."Don't worry about it.Sorry to intrude on you, I guess I must've been sleepwalking."

"Beg pardon?"Hazel blinked.(_"Beg pardon?I can't believe you said that.No one__ says that.""I do.""Well, you're weird.")_

"I honestly didn't mean to come down here right now."Harry grinned in a puzzled sort of way."I assume I was sleepwalking, since that's the only reason I can think of for my coming down here without remembering how I got here."

"Where's 'here'?" Hazel asked warily.She wasn't at all sure she trusted this dream.Dreaming about Harry was usually nice, but this was getting confusing.

"The Potions dungeon."Harry frowned."Aren't you down here to raid Snape's stores, or something?That's what I'd figured."

Hazel shook her head slowly.(_"I honestly hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about.Why would I want to steal potion ingredients?What would I have done__ with them?")"Um… no… I rather thought I was dreaming."_

"Oh.A fellow sleepwalker."Harry gave her a friendly grin, and her heart nearly stopped.Dream or not, his effects on her were certainly real enough."We should probably get back to our respective dormitories before Snape decides to make a surprise midnight inspection of his classrooms, or something.Which House are you in?"

"Um…"(_"Well, how do you answer that?I don't know, I'm not in a House?")"It doesn't matter.We'd better go.I think I heard someone."(__"Oh, great bluff.I'm sure he believed that__.")_

"Really?"Harry glanced worriedly towards the door."You must have great ears."All of a sudden, he was awake, alert, and ready for action."Our best chance would be to hide in here, then.Whoever it is will probably just walk on by."He pulled Hazel down behind one of the rows of desks, hissing, "_Nox" to shut off his wand's glow._

Hazel wasn't sure how long he made them stay hidden that way, crouched on the hard, damp floor in a pitch-black dungeon, but finally Harry stood up with a sigh of relief. (_"I can't believe you let a moment with that romantic potential go!""Was I allowed to interrupt your __story?Shush!")"Whoever it was must've gone past.Unless you might've misheard?"_

"Maybe," Hazel agreed hesitantly, squinting to see in the darkness.

"_Lumos," Harry whispered, his wand lighting again."I hate not being able to see.How did you stand it down here without your wand lit?"_

"Um…"Hazel thought fast."I… don't have my wand with me… just now."(_"Well, it was technically__ true.")_

"Don't you?"Harry gave her a look of concern."You'll never find your way back to your Common Room in the dark.I'll walk you back."

"Oh, you needn't!" Hazel protested, alarmed."Really, I'm fine!"(_"Dreaming about going to Hogwarts is all well and good, sure, but how do you explain being there when you don't belong there?What do you do when someone asks what your House is, and you haven't a clue?")_

Harry gave her a look of disbelief."You've got to be kidding.I still have trouble finding my way around in the full light of day.No way can you do it without any light at all."

"But…"Hazel cast around frantically for something to keep him from realizing she didn't belong.(_"Why did you care?It was a dream.""Well… because it felt so real__, I suppose.Like it wasn't really a dream at all.")Then it came to her."I'm not supposed to tell other people where our Common Room is!"_

"Ohhh."Harry nodded in understanding."I see.Yeah, the Gryffindors don't like people from other Houses knowing too much about our Common Room, either.I think a lot of them are afraid someone mightmanage to sneak in, somehow."

"Exactly."Hazel nodded in relieved agreement.

"Still… I don't like the idea of anyone stumbling around in the dark."Harry frowned thoughtfully."Why don't I take you to somewhere _near your Common Room?Close enough that you don't need light to get there, but far enough away that I won't know too much?"_

"Um… well…"Hazel swallowed a sigh, and cast about for a landmark she could name without looking stupid."I can… uh… find my way there from the Astronomy Tower."

Harry looked blank. (_"I could've kicked myself.I was sure I'd said something inadvertently impossible.")"Which one?"_

"The tallest one?" Hazel suggested tentatively._Please let it be right, please let it be right…_

"Ah.A Ravenclaw."Harry nodded, his face clearing."I _thought your Common Room was near there."_

"Yes," Hazel agreed in relief.This dream was altogether too nerve-wracking for her.Why couldn't she ever have dreams about flying or something, like normal people?

Mercifully, Harry took the lead to the Tower.Hazel hadn't any idea what she would have done if he'd asked her to go first.Lose her mind, possibly.(_"Haven't you already lost it?""Quiet, you.Let her talk.""Thank you.")_

After a time that was far too long - what if she said something that showed she wasn't really part of this world? - and also _far too short - this was Harry, actually __Harry, or as close as she was likely to ever get to him - they reached a staircase that apparently led up to the Astronomy Tower._

"So, this is where I leave you," Harry said, smiling."Why don't you track me down at breakfast, let me know that you get back to your dorm without any more difficulties?And you never did give me a name."

"Hazel Randel," she told him, never thinking to make up a name.She had to give him her real name.She couldn't not do so.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, Hazel?" Harry asked her.Then his smile faded, and turned to a grimace."Oh, damn."

"What?"Hazel twisted, to see a skinny cat with eyes like lamps glaring at them.(_"It had__ to be Mrs. Norris.And no way is that cat an Animagus gone wrong.Only a real cat can look that accusing.")_

Before either of them had time to do anything, there was the huffing of heavy breathing in the distance, and the pounding of running feet.Harry and Hazel tried to scramble high enough up the steps to get out of sight, but they knew it was a lost cause.Mrs. Norris would see wherever they went, and would tell Filch.Just as Hazel saw him turn the corner - 

"And you conveniently woke up?"Lianne sighed in annoyance."It was just getting good!"

Hazel gave her a look of disbelief."You _would think so.I was scared out of my wits!"_

"Why?It was only a dream, you know."Autumn laughed lightly."Crazy phone calls, insane dreams, I think we've all just been spending way too much time around Lianne."

While the younger girl gasped in mock-outrage, Erin grinned."You know, I'm starting to feel kind of left out.I mean, Hazel and Lianne get cool dreams, Autumn gets interesting phone calls… what about me?Doesn't Remus want to make contact with me somehow?"

"You do understand everything that's happening now is just the product of our overactive imaginations?" Autumn asked, eyeing Erin warily.

"Yes, of course."Erin nodded, then sighed."But it would be interesting if _my imagination would overact a bit, too."_

Author's Note:We've all heard the phrase "be careful what you wish for," haven't we?Good.Then with that and your amazing psychic abilities, you will have divined that the next part will be entitled "Erin" and will focus on… well, you get the idea.Anyway, I hope it will be done soon, but I'm not sure.My grandmother is coming to visit (yay!) but that means I don't get to spend all my free time writing.And I want to post more of my other story first.Well, thanks to the people following this, I really love you, and double thanks to the wonderfully nice authors who allowed me to put them in this story.Oh, disclaimer.Um… author-based characters belong to the authors they were based on, JK Rowling owns her characters and her world, and I belong either to myself or to my muse, depending on her attitude at any given time.Song lyrics - still from the Phantom.Rather obvious, I feel, but…Well, anyway.Zhai'helleva!

Love,

Mystica


	4. Erin

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  I'm really sorry about the delay.  I've… well, I've been very busy.  Sorry.

**_Part 4 - Erin_**

**Chapter 5**

_In all your fantasies,_

_You always knew_

_That man and mystery_

_            Were both in you._

_And in this labyrinth_

_Where night is blind,_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there,_

_Inside your mind._

            _I do not__ want to listen to this woman chatter.  Erin sighed, staring vaguely in the direction of her biology teacher, who had an aggravating tendency to start babbling on about completely irrelevant things.  Glancing back down at her notes, Erin poked the several blank sheets of paper with her pen.  __Maybe she won't notice if I start writing something else…_

            Almost of its own volition, Erin's hand began writing a letter to Remus.  She nearly blushed, thinking about it.  Lord, it was pathetic to be writing letters to an imaginary character at eighteen.  She hadn't even told Hazel about it.  She'd thought about it, once or twice, but she'd just been too embarrassed.

            _Dear Remus, she began.  She had a whole drawer full of these letters, at home.  Normal people kept diaries.  She wrote letters to her fantasy love.  This was really, really sad…_

Dear Remus,

            Earlier today, I was joking that I felt left out of the whole insanity thing that Li, Autumn, and Hazel have going.  But honestly, I _do feel left out.  I wish there was some way for me to contact you, even if it would only be pretend.  The other three are lucky.  At least they have __something.  All I have is a pile of stupid letters._

            What would you tell me to do if you were here, I wonder?  Probably to stop daydreaming and to listen to my teacher.  Well, other than that?  Would you give me sappy, follow-your-heart advice to just do whatever I need to make my dream come true?  Or would you be more practical, and say that I should give up on something I know can never happen?

            Not that it matters.  You aren't here.  If you were, there wouldn't be a problem, anyway.  You could hold me and kiss me and just love me, and I'd have my dream for real, not just for a moment's pretending.

            Ah, well.  Wishful thinking is very nice, but it won't help me pass biology.  I still love you, and I wish I could hear you tell me you feel the same.

Yours forever,

Erin

            Erin slid the letter into the back pocket of her private notebook.  She could put it in with the others when she got home.  For now, it would be safe where it was.

            And she really ought to at least pretend to pay attention to the teacher.

            "Where's my letter?" Erin all but screamed.  There wasn't much point in being loud, as she was the only one home just then, but she was too frantic to think about it.  "Oh, God, oh, _God, I __can't have lost it!"_

            She rooted desperately through her backpack.  Maybe it had fallen out of her notebook, and was sitting in the bottom of the bag.  _If someone found it… if someone read__ it… I don't know what__ I'll do.  No, scratch that, I'll kill them.  But I don't know what I'll do after that._

            Once all the contents of her backpack were scattered on the floor around her, Erin was forced to admit that her letter just wasn't there.  She felt like crying as she stuffed things randomly back into the bag.  _I lost it.  I can't believe__ I lost it.  She picked up her private notebook - and a folded sheet of paper fluttered out._

            Erin snatched it up.  Yes, it was a letter!  _Oh, thank God I've found it!  She sighed, half laughing in relief.  "Don't I feel an idiot," she muttered, picking up her backpack and dragging it to her room.  She dropped it by her door and fell onto her bed._

            That was when she realized that the handwriting on the letter hadn't been her own.

            Erin stared at the letter, alarmed.  No, this _wasn't her handwriting.  And it began, __Dear Erin!  Someone else had written this!_

Dear Erin,

            I got your letter, and I have to say it really confused me.  Have we met?  I don't think I know anyone named Erin, or Autumn or Hazel, for that matter.  I _do know a Li, but I rather doubt it's the same one.  Did we meet in school, perhaps, and I've forgotten?_

            Flattering as it is to have someone pledge her undying love to me, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't say the same.  I'm sure that if we met, I'd quite like you, but as I don't even know you, I can hardly love you.

            You asked me what advice I'd give you, if I were there with you.  That may have been rhetorical, but I'll tell you.  I'd say that you should get out, meet people, and live your life. Maybe you'd call it sappy, maybe you'd call it practical.  I don't know.  But it's what I'd say.  It sounds to me like you're wasting your life for unrequited love.  Please don't, at least not for my sake.  I'm hardly worth it, and I should hate to have something like that on my conscience.

Take care, Erin.

Sincerely,

Remus

            Erin's face was burning by the time she was done reading.  Someone had read her private letter.  Someone had _dared to invade her own special sanctuary of dreams, for no other purpose than to humiliate her.  Now she had a better idea of how Autumn felt when that boy called her pretending to be Draco._

            The worst part was, the letter sounded _exactly like Remus ought to sound.  Not the romantic letter she'd occasionally imagined he might send her, but what Remus might actually write, if faced with the circumstances this letter would have put him in.  __They could at least have made him seem fake!_

            Erin was about to start crying when the phone rang.  She yanked it off the hook.  "What?" she snarled, not caring how rude she sounded, and hoping viciously that it was someone selling something.

            "Er… sorry.  Bad time?"  For once, Lianne actually sounded timid.  Well, most people would, after being greeted that way.

            "_Yes!" Erin snapped.  Then some dam inside of her broke, and she started shaking, trying to stop the tears from running down her face.  __No!  I'm eighteen, I'm too old for this!  I shouldn't cry over something as stupid as a storybook character!_

            "Erin?" Li gasped in dismay.  "Erin, what _happened?"_

            Choking back her sobs, Erin let the whole story pour out, from how she'd been writing to Remus, to this horrible new letter that was supposedly _from him.  She could almost forget that it was Lianne she was talking to, talkative, chatterbox Lianne.  Apparently the girl __could keep her mouth shut when she chose._

            "Wow.  That's really terrible," Lianne said sympathetically, when it was clear Erin was done.  "If you ever find out who wrote that, let me know.  I'll attack them, if you'd like."

            "Tchuh."  Erin rolled her eyes, sniffling.  "They'd squash you flat.  Don't fight because of me."  She frowned.  "Aren't you going to say that this is a dream come true, and the rest of the crap you usually preach?"

            "When your feelings are hurt?"  Lianne was horrified.  "How could _that be true love?"_

            "So you don't think I should write back, or anything stupid like that?" Erin asked, surprised.

            "Well, of course you should write back," Lianne said innocently.  "They want to play games with you?  Play along.  See if you can get whoever-it-is right back!"

            "Normal people would say to ignore it," Erin said dryly.

            "Normal people don't fall in love with story characters," Li said brightly.  "Anyway, Erin, did you get the art assignment?  I lost my assignments notebook again…"

            "Get whoever it is back," Erin murmured, tapping the blank white paper with her pen.  "Ok, Li.  You'd _better be right about this."_

Dear Remus,

            You were confused by my letter?  Well, I suppose it's only natural.  Men.  You can't remember the time of day, let alone a woman you pledged to love.  Not only can't you remember me, you've even forgotten Hazel and Autumn!  Your poor sisters will be horrified.  They're nice girls, though.  They deserve a better brother.

            You'd counsel me to get over you, would you?  Well, that's singing a different tune from when last we met, and no mistake!  As I recall, you swore you'd love me till the end of time, and begged _me to say the same.  If you feel differently now, though - and it's clear enough you do - you might at least __say so, instead of trying to pretend you don't even __know me!_

            I hate you.  Never write to me again.  The engagement is _off!_

_Ever so sincerely,_

Erin

            Erin smiled vindictively, looking down at the finished letter.  If someone could steal _this one, good!  Let him think he'd ruined an innocent girl's love life!  Serve him right for what he'd done._

            She tucked the letter into the back pocket of her notebook.  She'd make a point to leave it unattended at several points throughout the day.  Give whoever-it-is ample time to find the letter.  Maybe she could even worm a confession out of him.

            "So?" Lianne asked.  "Did you write back?"

            "Write who back?" Autumn demanded, looking up from her lunch.  "Erin, do you know what she's going on about now?"

            "Someone pretended to be Remus writing to me," Erin said with a sigh.  "And yes, I wrote back, but I don't know if he's gotten it yet."  She pulled out her notebook and checked the back pocket.  "Nope, still here - "

            "That isn't your writing!" Hazel exclaimed, cutting her cousin off as she peered at the paper in the notebook.  "Erin, I _know you didn't write that!"_

            "You're right!"  Erin removed the letter.  Sure enough, it started, _Dear Erin._

Dear Erin,

            I am horribly, terribly sorry.  There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding.  Erin, I don't know _who was intended to receive your letters, but it can't be me.  I'm not your fiancé, and I don't even have __one sister, let alone two.  Now I'm __certain I've never met you, because otherwise I'd understand what it is you meant._

            If I were you, I'd check your owl.  It may have gotten confused during delivery.  Remus isn't a _common name, but apparently there are two people with it.  Try adding a last name when you address your letters._

            I wish you and your fiancé all the happiness in the world, and I hope I haven't caused any grief between you.

Sincerely,

Remus Lupin

            "How'd he reply so fast?" Erin asked, shocked.  "I mean, it takes _work to sound this much like someone else!  You can't just scribble it out between classes!"_

            "His handwriting looks like Remus's, too," Hazel offered.

            "How do _you know?" Autumn asked incredulously._

            Hazel dug through her backpack and produced her rather battered copy of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, paging through until she found the page where the Marauders spoke to Snape through the Map.  "There.  See?"_

            "Whoa.  That's weird."  Lianne shivered.  "He _does write like Remus!"_

            "Hello?  This is Reality calling!"  Autumn stared at the two girls in disbelief.  "The writing in the books?  That's called a _font.  Computers use them to __simulate handwriting.  It isn't really Remus's handwriting because Remus __does not exist."_

            "_I know that, even if __they don't," Erin assured her.  "Don't worry.  I haven't lost it yet."_

            "Yet," Lianne emphasized cheerfully.

            Hazel looked at the letter again.  "Are you going to reply?"

            Erin set her shoulders stubbornly.  "Yes, I _am.  I'm going to reply, and keep __on replying till I catch him at it!  He's trying to make a fool out of me.  Well, I won't let that happen."_

            "Good for you, Erin."  Autumn grinned approvingly.  "Good for you."

Author's Note:  Please see the other disclaimers.  I own very little here, believe me.  Anyhow, I haven't any idea when the next part will be done because it has four - count 'em, _four - chapters in it.  And… oh, wow.  I need a creative title for part 5.  I shall have to think about this…  Zhai'helleva!_

Love,

Mysti


	5. interlude chapter 55

Dreaming Of You

Author's Note:  Something I wrote for the fictionalley version of this story I am now posting.  I thought it might interest everyone while I work on part 12.

**Chapter 5.5**

~*~ flashback ~*~

            _God, I hate being sick._  Erin debated throwing her box of tissues across the room, but decided against it.  Her father was working on Saturday – _again_ – and her mother was out shopping.  She'd just have to pick it up herself the next time she sneezed.  Which would probably be any – 

            "A-_choo_!"

             – any second now.  Good thing she hadn't thrown her tissues away.  Erin blew her nose, wallowing quite grumpily in her misery.  Colds were the worst sort of sick to be.  You couldn't do anything but sit in bed because you were sneezing all the time, but you felt just well enough to get bored with sitting around all day.  And your nose felt all red and swollen because your parents only bought the cheap tissues that scratched up your face before you were a quarter of the way through with the box.  Or maybe that was just her.

            Erin flopped back against her pillow, trying to think of ways to alleviate her boredom.  _There is no way I'm going to do homework,_ she decided.  Biology and calculus were the last things she wanted to think about right then.  The study of whatever was making her sick in the first place, and the study of things guaranteed to make her even sicker.  Who the hell needed to know the Calvin cycle, anyway?

            _I could always read a book._  She considered the idea.  No, she'd read all her books already, and there was no one likely to go to the library for her.  And fascinating as most of her books were, there just wasn't anything she – 

            No.  Wait.  Erin frowned.  What about those books Hazel had lent her?  Weren't they by Something Potter?  No, that was the kid in the title.  Something Potter and the Whatever.

            Erin leaned over the side of her bed.  She'd dropped them beside her nightstand, hadn't she?  Yes, there they were.  _Harry_ Potter, that was it.  And the Sorcerer's Stone.  Except wasn't it really called the _Philosopher's_ Stone?  She thought she remembered Hazel saying something about that at their last family gathering.  Something about how the book had been translated into American English from British English.  Or maybe it was just the title.  She hadn't really grasped most of it.

            Well, after reading this, she'd at least know what it was Hazel liked to talk about so much.  That was the only reason she'd read Tolkien.

            Of course, _Lord of the Rings_ was now one of her favorite series.  So maybe these Potter books would be good, too.

~*~

            Monday afternoon, Erin sighed and closed _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_.  She couldn't believe she'd finished all four books in just three days.  It was a personal record.  Especially considering the size of the last one.  What was it, some sort of encyclopedia?

            _And it didn't even _end_ yet._  Erin scowled.  _It was just getting really interesting, too.  And that cool teacher was going to come back._

            The thought of Remus Lupin made her smile, almost embarrassedly.  A blush warmed her cheeks.  She could just _see_ him, and _hear_ him.

            Erin shook her head sharply.  _Am I mooning over a fictional character?_  She reminded herself sternly that eighteen-year-old girls did not do things like that.  She'd managed to get through her life so far without the "obligatory" crush on an actor or singer.  She was _not_ going to fall for a bunch of words written in an interesting way.  An interesting, soft-spoken, handsome, kind way…

            _Oh, Lord, I'm turning into that girl in my art class._  Erin grimaced.  The girl in question, while a rather good artist, was considered to be slightly mad, and tended to draw pictures of a man – whom Erin now knew was Sirius Black – and insist he was her soul mate.

            Well, she wasn't going to do anything crazy like that.  Certainly not.  She was entirely sane, thank you.  She didn't go around drawing imaginary people and trying to make a temple of eternal love for the artwork. (Ms. Holland had dismantled it, saying that she needed that garden hose for the still life, and that sticks of incense weren't allowed on school campuses, no, not even if you took them off-campus to light them.  Afterwards, someone in the class was always ready to volunteer to take that girl's work to the paper cutter for her.)

            No, Erin was perfectly sane.  Which was why, upon looking down, she realized that she'd started a letter in her private notebook with the words, _Dear Remus_.


	6. The Other Side of the Rainbow

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  And here we are with part 5.  I have a creative title.  Aren't you proud of me?

**_Part 5 - The Other Side of the Rainbow_**

****

**Chapter 6**

_Shadow-Lover, never seen by day,_

_Only deep in dreams do you appear._

_Wisdom tells me I should turn away,_

_Love of mist and shadows, all unclear - _

_Nothing can I hold of you but thought_

_Shadow-Lover, mist and twilight wrought._

            "What the - !"  Sirius started out of sleep, biting off the exclamation.  He shook his head.  "I never have _normal dreams anymore."_

            He'd just woken up from what he supposed was technically a recurring dream - himself and a girl named Lianne, sitting around Hogwarts.  Talking.  This was not a typical dream sequence for him.  There was a distinct lack of the usual insane events his subconscious seemed to enjoy.

            And for another thing, he could always remember exactly what had happened in each dream.  As though he actually _had gotten up to wander around the school, and had met Lianne in reality.  You weren't supposed to be able to remember dreams that clearly, it ought to be bits and pieces of vaguely connected images._

            And he shouldn't be stiff from the way Lianne had made him pose so she could draw him.

            _I think I'm losing my mind, Sirius decided._

Of course, he meant it _mostly as a joke._

            "Sirius?  Hello?  Are you awake?"  James waved a hand in front of his friend's face.

            "_Yes, I'm awake," Sirius replied testily.  "I'm fine."_

            "Ok.  Fine."  James backed off.  Sirius had been unusually touchy for about a week now, and no one could figure out why.  He would've guessed lack of sleep, if Padfoot hadn't begun going to bed earlier than pretty much _all the other Gryffindors, first years included.  Maybe he was sick or something.  But why not tell his friends?_

            Remus apparently had the same sort of idea.  "Sirius, do you want to go up to the hospital wing?" he asked anxiously.  "You don't look - "

            "I _said I'm fine!"  Sirius stood up.  "I'm going to the library - __not the hospital wing.  I have a History of Magic essay to finish."_

            James raised his eyebrows as the tallest of the Marauders stalked out.  "Anyone else get the vague feeling there's something he isn't telling us?"

            "People don't tell you everything, you know, James Potter," the other Gryffindor prefect informed him scornfully, looking up from a few seats away.

            James glowered at her.  "Who asked _you, Lily Evans?"_

            "I'm always ready to offer my help to those of you who are so _desperately in need of mental assistance," Lily replied with sugar sweetness._

            "Really."  James folded his arms.  "Enlighten us."

            Lily smirked, and turned away to her friend Anya.  "Some_ boys," she said loudly, "simply can't see what's in front of their own noses."_

            James rolled his eyes, giving up.  He should've known Lily wouldn't tell him anything.  She hadn't been too fond of the Marauders ever since that whole incident with the diaries.  That one had been an accident, actually.  How were they supposed to have known it was hers?  It wasn't like she was the only "Lily" in the whole school.  They'd thought it belonged to a Slytherin.

            Remus, however, leaned over to look at the redhead.  "Lily?  You don't think Sirius is _sick, do you?"_

            "Sick?"  Lily smiled enigmatically.  "A certain special kind of sickness, maybe.  The symptoms are… irritability, daydreaming, snapping at his friends, spending more time alone than he ever has before, staring off into space when he should be listening in class - though I don't know if that one counts, considering who we're talking about."  She shrugged.  "Well, I won't spell it out for you.  It's pretty obvious."

            Peter blinked.  "No, it's not."  Of course, Peter was habitually confused… but in this case, James rather agreed that Lily hadn't been helpful at all.

            Lily shrugged again, and turned back to her friends, humming a song by a current wizard band, Witch Fire.  It was called "Spelling Love" or something, wasn't it?

            James shook his head.  _Girls.  Go figure._

            _What is wrong with me? Sirius demanded of himself.  __Why am I so upset with my friends?  They're only worried.  I'd say the same, if one of them starting acting this way._

            But he couldn't go to the hospital wing.  He _wouldn't go.  Madam Kelari was nice enough, as Healers went, but he hadn't the faintest idea what she'd say about - well, no, that wasn't quite true.  She'd probably say he was either making these dreams up, or worrying over nothing.  __Or there's always the insanity option…  No, he wasn't going to think about that._

            Sirius tried and failed to stifle a yawn.  He really had no business being tired, as early as he'd been going to bed.  But as far as he could tell, those dreams he was having didn't count as rest to his body.  Maybe he ought to ask Madam Kelari for a potion for dreamless sleep…?

            But no, that wasn't a choice.  He liked seeing Lianne, he truly did.  Even if she was only a figment of his imagination.  Could she really be?  It was hard to believe.  She seemed so real, so lifelike, so unlike what he'd choose if he set out to create a girl to dream about.  For one thing, Li was silly almost to a fault.  And rather flighty, it seemed.  His mother always said he would have to hook up with a steady, reliable sort of girl, to counteract his own bouts of craziness.

            _Whoa, wait a minute.  Sirius blinked.  __When did I start thinking about this hook up __business?  Dream.  She is a dream.  I have to remember that.  You can't fall in love with a dream.  I don't think it's allowed.  There's probably some sort of rule against it._

            Though Lianne didn't seem to care particularly if he was a dream or not.  She hadn't said or done anything romantic since the not-kiss they'd almost shared the first time they'd met, but he was getting the distinct impression that she was, if not in love with him already, then certainly well on the way there.  She hadn't said anything, exactly, but he could guess, from the way she watched him when she thought he wasn't paying attention, and from some of the things she'd said.

            _It isn't very fair to her, Sirius thought, depressed.  Just as he couldn't force himself to grasp that she wasn't real, he couldn't ignore her feelings.  But a dream relationship would never work.  Never.  No matter how much they wanted it to._

            _Maybe I should__ ask for a sleeping potion after all.  At least then he wouldn't have to deal with this anymore.  He wouldn't have to worry about whether he was falling in love with one of his own dreams._

            "You think he's _what?"  James stared at Remus in disbelief._

            "I think Sirius has fallen in love with someone," Remus repeated patiently.  "Or anyway," he amended, "I think that's what Lily was saying."

            "Oh, Lily," James began dismissively.

            "No, don't be like that," Remus scolded.  "Lily's a lot more observant than you or me, that's why she's in Advanced Divination with the sixth years and we aren't."

            "And here I thought it was because she threatened to jinx Professor Fierston," James muttered.

            "That's only a rumor and well you know it," Remus said calmly.  "But anyway, I've been thinking about it all day, and it does fit.  Daydreaming, not wanting to spend time with us, being grouchy… you have a better suggestion?"

            "Who with?" Peter wanted to know.  "Not _Lily?"_

            "I doubt it, or she'd've let us know _that," Remus replied._

            "Anyway, Sirius has better taste," James added.

            Remus shot James an exasperated look.  "Lily is a nice girl," he told James.  "And she has good reason to dislike you.  But we aren't talking about her.  We are talking about Sirius."

            "You're talking about me?"  The three boys' heads snapped to the door of the dorm room.  Sirius stood there, leaning on the doorframe.  "Gee, I feel honored.  What about?"

            "Listen, Padfoot," Remus stood to meet Sirius's eyes, "don't get mad and walk away again, but we really are worried about you."

            "So am I."  Sirius laughed to turn the statement into a joke.

            "No, really," Remus insisted.  "Is there anything wrong?"

            "You know you can tell us anything," James told him earnestly.

            "Ah, it's nothing."  Sirius shut the door behind him as he came in to sit on one of the beds.  "I just think I may be losing my mind."

            "Isn't it already gone?" James joked.

            Sirius rolled his eyes, clearly - astonishingly - unamused.  "Oh, yeah.  Yeah, that's cute.  Real funny, Prongs.  Last time I try to have a serious conversation with you."

            James, Remus, and Peter all stared.  "You mean you weren't joking?" James asked at last.

            "Not entirely."  Sirius shrugged.  "Not yet."

            "You sound like Lily Evans," James grumbled.  "All mystery and veiled threat and nothing solid to give us any idea what you mean."

            "You want solid?"  Sirius raised his eyebrows.  "Fine.  Solid it is.  I think I may be falling in love."

            "So I _was right!" Remus exclaimed._

            "Sort of," Sirius said carelessly.  "Any ideas as to who?"

            "Don't you know?" Peter asked, eyes widening.

            Sirius just rolled his eyes again.  "He wants us to guess," Remus explained. frowning.  "Is she a Gryffindor?"

            "Nope."

            "Ravenclaw?"

            "Try again."

            "Hufflepuff?"

            "Uh-uh."

            "_Slytherin?"_

            "No."

            James gave his friend a suspicious look.  "She isn't a teacher, is she?"

            Sirius shuddered.  "Hardly.  She's a bit young for that.  No, you're entirely on the wrong track."

            "So she doesn't go to Hogwarts?"  Remus's frown deepened.  "A French girl?  Beauxbatons?"

            "Try American," Sirius said.  "In theory, anyway."

            "How can you be American 'in theory?'" James demanded.  "Either you are or you aren't!"

            "She is, then."  Sirius shrugged.  "I just doubt you'd find her name listed in their school of wizardry."

            "A Muggle?" Peter asked, startled.

            "No, not exactly."  Sirius didn't deign to elaborate further.

            "You're being annoying on purpose, aren't you?" James said darkly.

            "Yes."  Sirius sighed.  "Ok, I'll stop.  Here's the real story.  And if you disbelieve me I swear I'll never speak to any of you again.  In fact, I'll - I'll see if Dumbledore will switch me down to the fourth year dormitory!"

            "We'll believe you, we'll believe you," Remus assured him hastily.  "Just tell us."

            "Well," Sirius began, "I've been having these really _insane dreams…"_

            "… and that's the whole story," he finished.  "And I think it may be too late already."

            "It… could be a portent…?" Remus suggested delicately, with a sidelong look at James.

            Right on cue, the other boy snorted his disgust.  "Don't tell me you're starting to believe all that Everything Is An Omen junk, Moony."

            "Have you got a better explanation?" Remus shot back.

            "Besides the obvious one of me being raving mad, you mean?"  Sirius smiled twistedly.  "Anyway, why would _I being getting portents?  I didn't take Divination because Fierston said I'd probably flunk out, remember?  My Inner Eye went blind, or something."_

            "It couldn't be a curse, could it?" Peter wondered.  "It's the sort of thing Snape and his friends might do."

            "And if anyone knows a curse like that, it's Snape," James agreed.

            "Lianne is _not the product of a curse," Sirius said fiercely, giving both Peter and James very nasty looks._

            "Are you _quite sure?" Remus asked gently._

            "Yes!" Sirius snapped.  Then, "No.  But I don't _want her to be a curse.  I want her to be real!"_

            The other three looked at each other uncomfortably.  They wanted Lianne to be real, too, if only for Sirius's sake.  But some dreams just don't come true.

**Chapter 7**

_Shadow-Lover, soothe me when I mourn_

_Mourn for all who left me here alone,_

_When my grief is too much to be borne,_

_When my burdens crushing-great have grown,_

_Shadow-Lover, I cannot forget - _

_Help me bear the burdens I have yet._

            "Crazy Americans."  Draco looked down at the Muggle telephone in distaste.  Only that Anderson woman who was in charge of the school over there would come up with something as stupid as this telephone plan.  At least as a sixth year, he rated one of the smaller contraptions, instead of the monstrosities some of the first years had to lug around.  He was required to carry his telephone with him at all times, and the "cell phones" were much easier than those others.

            "What?"  Goyle looked across the dorm room at the smaller boy, apparently attempting to show some semblance of intelligence.

            "Americans," Draco repeated, louder.  "They're all lunatics over there."

            "Oh, _tell me about it," Blaise Zabini said, sighing melodramatically.  "You should hear the boy I've gotten stuck with.  Going on and on about their school system - how they don't actually have one school, if you can believe it.  It's fifty small ones, one in every state."_

            "You're joking."  Draco forgot his usual dislike of the somewhat girly - even fey, as rumor had it - wizard in his disbelief at this new revelation.  "How can they possibly get anything done?"

            "How should I know?"  Blaise rolled his big green eyes - _He must use eyeliner on those, Draco decided - theatrically.  "Do you think I was actually __listening to whatever-his-name-is?  I'm hardly going to waste my time on __him.  I'm sure he'd go __straight to Hufflepuff, no questions asked."_

            _Which is where you__ should have gone, Draco thought irritably.  __Join the other cross-dressing freaks.  Honestly, some people just don't deserve the name of Slytherin, no matter where__ their parents were placed.  Some days, he wondered how many points he'd lose if he just throttled Blaise in the halls one day.  Or maybe he'd __gain points.  It'd probably qualify as a service to the school, or something._

            "So, Draco, how's _your 'phone pal?'" Blaise asked chattily, apparently with the mistaken idea that Draco wanted to have a conversation with him.  "Interesting at all?"_

            "She's a lunatic, as I said earlier," Draco replied coldly.  "Like certain other people."

            "_My phone pal, you mean?"  Blaise nodded brightly.  "Oh, yes, __he's an idiot for sure!"_

            "He wasn't who I meant."  Draco scowled at the other wizard.  He did _not want to talk about Autumn.  If word got out he'd been talking with a Muggle, not only would his reputation be ruined, his father would probably kill him.  Unintentional or not, Draco had actually spent at least an hour's worth of time speaking with one of Them, and that was not to be tolerated.  Not when it was a Malfoy in question._

            "Wasn't he?"  Blaise cocked his head.  "Oh, I see!"  He lowered his voice conspiratorially, not noticing Draco's frigid expression.  "Yes, I've noticed that Greggory isn't precisely the brightest tool in the shed, too - if you know what I mean."

            Draco stared at Blaise incredulously.  "Are you some kind of _moron?" he asked at last.  "Can't you take a __hint?  I do not want to talk to you!  Leave me alone!"  He swept over to fling the door open.  Before he left, he added, "And it's 'the brightest __crayon in the box," __or "the __sharpest tool in the shed.'  Try to get __something right for once!"_

Slamming the door, he stormed out through the Common Room.  Several other Slytherins looked up, but no one said anything.  It was an unspoken agreement in this House - no one interfered with anyone else's vendettas.  That way, when someone came to demand what had happened and who had known, the answer was always the same - _no one._

            It helped that most of them probably assumed his fury was directed towards Potter, for one reason or another.  Honestly, he hadn't had time to even _think about harassing Potter much, ever since he'd been forced into this Muggle Studies class, he'd been kept too bloody busy!  And along with this 'phone pal' garbage, he was amazed he still had time to practice Quidditch._

            _Potter finds time, he thought resentfully.  Of course, the teachers all favored Potter, so he didn't have to work as hard.  __Because Potter's our little Quidditch star__, of course.  Perfect Potter.  Even had alliteration._

            Perfect Potter.  Potter, who had his precious scar, who had protections from all the evils in the world, who didn't have to worry about being conscripted into the Death Eater ranks by a too-ambitious father, and forced to spy in Hogwarts.  _They'd catch me, too, Draco thought despondently.  __Me, taking an interest in the 'secret workings' of how the school operates?  Hidden entrances, exits, secret passages, when I've never cared about it before?  Fine spy I'd make, to be sure.  They need someone like Granger, who's fascinated by that kind of thing.  Dumbledore'd notice straight away if I__ started trying to learn about all that._

            All Potter had to worry about was staying alive.  Draco was sure he'd have no problem with _that, at least.  If - when - he was conscripted, then caught, he'd probably be wishing he hadn't stayed alive quite so well.  However much the Ministry left of him, the Dark Lord would get hold of him afterwards.  And the Dark Lord was not kind to failures._

            Draco was so deep in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice his cell phone ringing.  He glared at it, willing it to melt to a mass of fried Muggle circuitry.  When it didn't, he scowled and snatched it up.  "What now?"

            "Polite, aren't you, seeing as you just interrupted my English homework!" Autumn snapped.  "Do you _mind?  This essay is due tomorrow!"_

            "And let me guess, you've written all of two words," Draco sneered.  It would be just typical of a Muggle, leaving things off - 

            "I've only got to finish the conclusion and run spellcheck, but that's beside the point!"  Autumn rudely derailed his train of thought.

            "And just what _is the point?"  Draco raised one eyebrow, even though she couldn't see him._

            "That you're _annoying me!" Autumn flung back.  "Stop calling me, stop bothering me - "_

            "Haven't we established yet that _you are calling __me?" Draco asked wearily._

            "No!  We haven't!" Autumn yelled.  "Now if you don't stop calling me, I'll - I'll - I'll do something drastic!"

            "Such as?" Draco demanded.  Just what could a Muggle do to _him?_

            "I'll tell my father you've been harassing me, and give _him the phone!" Autumn declared triumphantly.  "One more time, whoever you are.  Once more, and you get to speak to my father!"  She slammed the phone down in his ear._

            Draco stared at the cell phone, nettled.  "I wish she'd stop doing that," he muttered, rubbing his ear.

            "Having trouble with your phone pal?"

            Draco spun around just in time to see Granger elbow Weasley hard, hissing something he couldn't understand.  Potter was there, too, but he was just staring straight at Draco.  Suspiciously.  Draco had the sudden feeling that if he ever _did end up spying for the Dark Lord, Dumbledore might not be the one who caught him, after all._

            "Only that she wants a pledge of my undying love," Draco lied smoothly.  "It's _such a bother to have girls throw themselves at you constantly.  Not that __you'd know."_

            Weasley growled something under his breath.  This time, Potter spoke.  "Nor would you, I'd imagine.  Sounded to me like you were arguing about whether or not she'd called you."

            Draco's eyes narrowed.  "You're just jealous because that Ravenclaw keeps rejecting you.  Not that I blame her.  Who'd want _marked goods?"  He let his eyes rake Potter's forehead, touching the purple scar._

            Potter went white, and - surprise, surprise - Granger was next to address him.  "Better to be marked as Harry is than the way certain others are!" she snapped, glaring at his forearm pointedly.

            Draco was so pale naturally he couldn't exactly go _white, but he could get very nervous.  He didn't have the Dark Mark - yet - but surely, surely it was only a matter of time.  And if Potter and his friends were already on the lookout, he was doomed before he began._

            "Well, don't you have an answer for everything?" the Slytherin managed to sneer.  "Who'd want to waste time with a know-it-all, anyway?"

            With that, he turned and walked hurriedly away, turning into the first door he came to.

            _Oh, damn._

            "Yes, Draco, can I help you?"  Angela Stellarum, the pretty Muggle Studies professor, smiled at him - a wary, puzzled sort of smile, yes, but still a smile.  Which was rather amazing, considering that Draco made it a point to go out of his way to be nasty to her.  She was a bit young for a professor, probably not even thirty, but she gave more work than any other two teachers combined, McGonagall not withstanding.

            "Yeah," Draco said, scowling as he tried to come up with an excuse to be there.  He didn't dare give the obvious, that something was wrong with his cell phone, because Stellarum might notice he'd been in contact with a Muggle.  And then his father would find out.  "I… didn't understand our essay topic."

            "Oh, that!"  Professor Stellarum beamed at him, apparently assuming she'd won him over to the side of the Muggles at last.  _Huh.  Not likely.  "It really is quite simple - just how the telephone connects the Muggle world.  Actually, there's a recent invention that does the job better, called the Internet, but that's a bit complicated for your first year in this class.  What didn't you understand?"_

            "Never mind, I figured it out."  Draco turned away, figuring Potter and company would be gone by then - and ended up facing the three of them.  "What, you're _following me now?"_

            "Like it's our fault we need to see Professor Stellarum!" Weasley snapped.  "Why would we _want to waste our time following you around?"_

            "Ron, please be nice," Stellarum admonished.  "Draco just had a question for me, that's all.  Every student has the right to learn."

            "Yes, well, some of us don't exercise that right as much as we should," Granger muttered.

            "Oh, I'm learning, all right," Draco sneered.  "More than I ever wanted to know about Muggles, between this class and that stupid phone - "  He cut himself off sharply, cursing silently.  He was going to have to learn to be more careful, if he wanted to survive his two remaining school years.

            "Draco!"  Stellarum shot him a hurt look, but Draco really couldn't care less.  He shoved past the Gryffindors and stalked out into the hallway.

            Only once he was out there did the sudden increase of suspicion - and interest - in Potter's face really register.

**Chapter 8**

_Shadow-Lover, you alone can know_

_How I long to reach a point of peace_

_How I fade with weariness and woe_

_How I long for you to bring release._

_Shadow-Lover, court me in my dreams_

_Bring the peace that suffering redeems._

            "Damn, damn, and _damn!"  Harry flung his quill down._

            "What?"  Ron looked up in shock.  "Harry, are you ok?"

            "No!  That's the fourth time tonight I've made a stupid mistake like this!"  Harry pointed at his much-crossed-out Potions essay.  "Look!  I mixed up dragon's blood and unicorn's blood, for crying out loud!  I haven't done that since first year!"

            "You probably just need more sleep," Hermione said practically.  "Maybe."  The last word sounded a lot more uncertain, as she seemed to be remembering that Harry had been sleeping _more than normal lately, not less._

            "It is late," Ron agreed.

            "But this essay is due in two days, and I have Quidditch practice tomorrow," Harry pointed out.  "That's why we're writing it _now, instead of the night before it's due."_

            He did want to get to bed, however, though not for the reason Hermione and Ron were thinking of.  Maybe it was crazy - no, it was _definitely crazy - but he wanted to dream about Hazel Randel again.  Oh, he could just __hear what Professor Trelawney would say: it's an omen, you've seen the semblance of your true love, and soon you will meet her and marry her.  Of course.  At the ripe old age of seventeen.  Sure._

            But even though Hazel was just something his subconscious had come up with, she was nice.  A lot nicer than most girls he met, excluding Hermione, who didn't count.  It was fun to talk to her, a lot more fun than being awake was.

            And there was the catch.  Hazel wasn't real.  For all he knew, she could be a dream-curse, sent by Voldemort to distract him, keep him off his guard.  He didn't like to think that, but he had to admit there was a possibility.  Nowadays, he couldn't afford anything but - as Mad Eye Moody would have said - _constant vigilance.  Voldemort made no secret of the fact that he wanted Harry.  It was only sheer dumb luck that Harry had avoided capture over the summer, when the Dursleys dragged him off to Majorca the night Voldemort tried for him there._

            Was a dream-curse even possible?  It was subtler than Voldemort usually worked, but the more obvious methods of just trying to kill Harry out of hand hadn't really achieved much.  He might just try this.  The dreams definitely didn't feel like ordinary dreams, and that was too suspicious to ignore, nowadays.  He ought to ask Hermione, at least.  See if she'd ever heard of a way of cursing dreams.

            "Hermione?" Harry asked, before he lost his nerve.  "Have you ever heard of a curse that makes a person dream certain things?"

            Hermione looked up sharply.  "Why?"

            "Just wondering."  Harry cast about for an explanation.  "I read something about it, somewhere, and I wanted to know if it was possible."

            "Oh."  Hermione seemed to accept this.  "Well, _I've never heard of anything like it.  Magic can affect dreams, but not __curse them.  There's a charm a person can use if he or she wants to receive Seeing dreams, but someone else can't cast it.  Of course," she added thoughtfully, "I could just not have heard of it.  Where'd you read it?"_

            "I don't remember," Harry told her.  "Just a book I was looking through for some essay."

            "Well, tell me if you remember."  Hermione frowned.  "I hate not knowing things."

            Harry sighed softly.  _Join the club._

            "Harry?"  Hermione's voice jerked Harry out of his thoughts on the way back to the Common Room.  Ron had gone back earlier, when they finished their essays, having decided that studying for a Transfiguration quiz and writing an essay in one night would be too much work.

            "Yeah?"  Harry tried not to sound guilty.  He had the feeling she'd tried to get his attention several times before this, and he just hadn't noticed.

            "You know there's a Hogsmeade trip this weekend?"  Hermione was staring fixedly at the floor ahead of them as she spoke.

            "Yep."  Harry sighed.  "I don't think I'm going to go.  Maybe I'll take advantage of the peace and quiet in the Common Room to catch up on some rest."  _Since any dream about Hazel doesn't seem to count as sleep._

            "Oh."  Hermione bit her lip.  "I was hoping you'd go with me."

            "Can't you go with Ron or Ginny?" Harry asked.  "If you want advice on something to buy, Ginny would probably be more help than me.  Ron says I have no taste."

            "No," Hermione corrected him.  "No, I meant _with me.  Like a date."_

            "A date?" Harry repeated blankly.  Then it sunk in.  _She's asking me out.  She can't do that, can she?  We're friends__, right?_

            Apparently, she _could do that.  "Yes.  A date," Hermione confirmed.  "With me.  Would you like to?"_

            "Um," Harry said eloquently.  "Can I think about it?"

            Hermione's face fell.  "You don't want to."

            "No, no, it's not that," Harry tried to assure her.

            "You're still in love with that Ravenclaw Seeker, aren't you?" Hermione asked accusingly.  "That's why, isn't it?"

            Cho really didn't have anything to do with it, but Harry doubted Hermione would believe that.  "No," he told her anyway.

            "Yes, you are," Hermione said flatly.  "Listen, Harry, you shouldn't waste yourself on her.  Cho might be an _ok sort of girl, but you deserve a lot better than her."_

            "Like you?" Harry asked, trying not to sound condescending.

            "Well… yes!"  Hermione stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, glaring up at the woman.  "Do you mind?  This is a personal conversation!"

            "Then why are you having it out in the hall?" the Fat Lady demanded grumpily.  "I wasn't listening anyway."  She drifted back into the sleep she'd been in before Harry and Hermione had approached.

            "Hermione, this has nothing to do with Cho," Harry said again.

            "I think it does," Hermione replied stubbornly.  "Just remember, Harry - when you realize that Cho Chang isn't so wonderful after all, I'll still be here."

            With that, she leaned forward and kissed him.

            Harry lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.  What in the world would possess Hermione to kiss him like that?  Had he said something, or done something, that could have made her think he wanted to kiss her?  He hadn't meant to.

            _Oh, Lord, am I ever in a mess…  Harry couldn't believe his bad luck.  Of all the girls who could have gone and fallen for him, it had to be Hermione.  One of his __friends.  He couldn't even go to her for advice like he normally would, because she was the problem.  And however this ended, she was going to be very unhappy._

            Because Harry didn't think he _could love her.  It wasn't Cho who was in the way, though.  But it was probably best that Hermione thought Cho was the reason.  He had a nasty feeling she would never believe the real explanation…_

            "Hi, Harry."  Hazel smiled at him as he entered the room.  They always ended up meeting in a room near the bottom of the tallest Astronomy Tower, as the dream would conveniently begin when one of them walked in.

            "Hi, Hazel."  Harry grinned back tiredly.

            Hazel noticed immediately.  "Something's wrong."

            "Oh - no, it's nothing."  Harry was very reluctant to let Hazel know about Hermione, and how she'd kissed him.  It wasn't that he was afraid she'd be jealous… more that he was afraid she _wouldn't be.  And the fact that he was worried about a dream's feelings scared him most of all._

            "It's _not nothing," Hazel said, staring at him intently.  "You have bags under your eyes.  You look exhausted!"  She started to reach out to touch the dark circles under his eye, then jerked her hand back.  "Sorry."_

            Harry shrugged, deliberately misunderstanding the apology, pretending he hadn't seen the movement.  "I know I look tired.  Don't worry, I'm not so vain that being told about it bothers me."  He grinned.  "If you said that to Malfoy, now…"

            "Draco Malfoy?" Hazel asked.  Harry felt an irrational jealousy at her interest.  "The Slytherin?"

            "You know him?" Harry asked, frowning.  _Well, I suppose a dream character would know anyone I did…_

            "Oh - "  Hazel looked suddenly flustered.  "I've heard of him, that's all.  He wouldn't know me, of course."  She hurried to make an obvious, but welcome, subject change.  "So, you were going to tell me about your Quidditch team, remember?"

            "Oh, yes, that's right."  Harry nodded, glad to not have to talk about Malfoy to Hazel anymore.  He really did not like the possessiveness it brought out in him.

**Chapter 9__**

_Shadow-Lover, from the Shadows made,_

_Lead me into Shadows once again._

_Where you lead I cannot be afraid,_

_For with you I shall come home again - _

_In your arms I shall not fear the night._

_Shadow-Lover, lead me into light._

            Remus stared bemusedly at the small pile of letters on his desk.  He'd never seen the owl that delivered them, or the one that picked up his replies.  He'd never even heard of the woman who wrote them.  If he didn't know better, he might suspect someone of playing a joke on him.

            But there was no one who would play such a joke, not anymore.  Maybe once, Sirius might have, but now, running from the Ministry, helping fight Voldemort, Padfoot didn't have the time.  And anyway, he'd grown past that stage of his life.

            Which left only one other option - that this was a real person sending him these letters.  A real woman, somewhere out there, who was engaged to a man named "Remus."  He had to keep reminding himself of that.  And that a woman's writing style wasn't a reason to be attracted to her.

            _It would probably solve a lot of problems if I just quit writing to her, Remus thought.  But he couldn't do that.  Maybe he didn't know this woman, but he liked her.  He at least wanted to be her friend.  He already seemed to be her pen pal.  __On which note… I have a letter to write._

            Remus picked up a quill pen.  He'd noticed that Erin's letters were much smoother than quills could write.  She must be Muggle-born.  It was almost unheard of for any other sort of witch to write with Muggle pens.

            Glancing at her last letter for reference, Remus began writing.

Dear Erin,

            I do apologize for reading your private letters.  I had no wish to offend you.  But you have to admit that they seemed to be addressed to me.  I have mentioned that 'Remus' is hardly a common name.  And I'm sure there's nothing wrong with your owl.  I was just worried it might be feeling a bit under the weather, since it's been delivering letters to the wrong person.  You have it trained quite well, by the way.  I've never even seen it.

            I've been getting your responses to my letters fairly quickly, so I'm assuming we live rather close to each other.  Certainly within Apparating distance.  Would you like to meet me?  Not as a date, because you are engaged, after all.  I'm simply curious as to just whom I've been corresponding with.

            Speaking of your fiancé, I don't mean to pry, but I haven't caused any serious damage between you, have I?  If so, perhaps I should meet with him, rather than you.  I hope this gets straightened out soon.  There are enough problems in the world without me causing more of them.

Sincerely,

Remus

            _"I hope I haven't caused any serious damage between you."  Right.  Remus sighed, shaking his head.  __And here I thought Sirius__ fell too easily in l- well, in like__, anyway.  And then this happens to me.  Go figure._

            "Where did this come from?"  Remus stared into his desk drawer in shock.  He'd been expecting Erin to write back to him, yes… but he _hadn't expected to find her reply to him in a locked drawer.  __I'm starting to think there's more to this than just a well-trained owl…_

            It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd even had any sign the drawer had been opened.  And there should have been signs.  This was the drawer where he kept all his moon charts, his supply of Wolfsbane Potion, anything that could possibly indicate that he was a werewolf.  It was spelled with so many Locking Charms and Deterring Hexes and even a sturdy Muggle lock to which Remus had the only key that even if someone had managed to break it open, it should have been obvious.  Certainly no owl could have done it.

            But then, Erin had never actually _said she had an owl.  He'd just always assumed that was how her letters were delivered.  It was a reasonable assumption.  Everyone used owls.  But they didn't just deliver messages and immediately fly off, not unless they were trained that way for a reason.  And what reason would someone have to train her personal owl to fly unseen?  Not even the Ministry did that._

            _I'm probably reading too much into this, Remus thought, taking a deep breath.  Except he didn't know how else to read it.  Too many suspicious circumstances, not enough explanations… it just didn't add up.  __Maybe she'll say something in her letter.  Remus opened it._

Remus - 

            Ok, I'd really like to know how you managed to get your letter delivered to me, without my knowing, while I was still in the room with it.  I was studying on my bed, with my last letter to you on my desk, and a few hours later, it's replaced with one from you.  I want to know how you did that.  And if you didn't, I want to know who you're hiring that did.

- Erin

            Remus read and reread the letter, but it still said the same thing.  _She doesn't know… the same thing happened to her… she's scared, I know she's scared, and so am I… what is going on here?_

            There was only one thing he could think of to do, and that was to write back.

Author's Note:  I know, I know, I should've carried that last chapter out further.  But short as it is, that's where it had to end.  It will be continued in the next part, which is as yet untitled.  I will also give no hints as to what it is about, unlike with these past five parts.  All I'll say is that now things are _really going to start getting interesting.  Disclaimer - JK Rowling owns her characters, her setting, and anything else of hers that has worked its way in unbeknownst to me.  Erin, Hazel, and Autumn go to their respective authors.  Lianne is mine, until she gets to the point where her personality is so strong she will decide she belongs to herself alone, and not me at all.  I will try to write faster.  Honestly, I will.  Swim meets are over, so in theory I have more time.  Zhai'helleva!_


	7. Return to Sender

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  Ok, there have been some rather major plot revisions here.  I'm not going to say much about them, except that I'm sorry, but we will _not get to explanations in this part.  But the good news is that the story has just become at least three parts longer than my original intention.  But anyway, this is still the part where things start to get interesting.  So I'll just move onward._

**_Part 6 - Return To Sender_**

**Chapter 10**

_Return to sender_

_Address unknown_

_No such number_

_No such zone._

            "I'd want to work for the _Daily Prophet," Erin said thoughtfully._

            "What for?  Aren't they all idiots there?" Autumn asked.

            "No, but Rita Skeeter gives all the reporters such an awful reputation," Erin explained.  "I'd like to show everyone that not all reporters are like that."

            "Good luck."  Hazel smiled.  "So we have a reporter, a Minister of Magic - "

            "The first _evil Minister of Magic," Autumn corrected._

            "Right, and an Auror - "

            "I can't believe _you want to be an Auror," Lianne interrupted._

            "Harry wants to be an Auror," Erin pointed out.  "And you never said what _you would be."_

            "The person who draws those moving pictures," Li said, grinning.  "Couldn't you guess?"

            "I dreamt I saw one of those," Hazel spoke up.  "There was this girl dancing with a guy.  It reminded me of you."

            "I can't dance."

            "I know, but it made me think of you anyway."  Hazel shrugged, and looked back at her book, _Winds of Fury._

            "Huh.  I wish I could see moving pictures," Lianne said wistfully.

            "You can," Autumn told her.  "They're called 'movies.'"

            Lianne looked down at her picture of Sirius.  She'd stayed up late to finish watercoloring it, and she thought - she hoped - it looked good.  Normally, she'd've been in bed long before this, but her mother and her brother were out at school play he'd been in, so no one had been home to insist that she put her art away.

            "I wish it would move, though," she murmured, sighing as she put the picture down.  She ought to go to bed, or she'd never be awake in time for school tomorrow.

            Lianne flipped out her light, shivering in the darkness as she got into bed.  It had been ages since the dark had frightened her, but lately, ever since she'd started seeing Sirius in her dreams, he hadn't been in the shadows to protect her.  And that scared her.

            _Don't worry, she told herself.  __I'll see him tonight.  Secure in that thought, she closed her eyes, and fell into a more comforting sort of darkness._

            Lianne's first thought as she woke up was, _I didn't dream of Sirius!  She tried not to cry as she opened her eyes.  Her second thought was - _

            "Where the heck am I?"

            She was lying on a narrow white bed in a room with white walls, a tile floor that was actually clean, and dull metal cabinets.  _This is definitely not__ my room._

            And there was a needle in her arm.  Li was just about to pull it out when a woman rushed in.

            "No, no, dear, you mustn't do that!"  She swatted Lianne's hand away from the needle.  "You need that."

            "Why?"  Lianne stared at her.  The woman was wearing a white doctor's coat, yes, but under it she was wearing some sort of long black dress.  "Am I in the loony bin or something?"

            "No!"  The woman looked shocked.  "This is the Maryland State Healing Hospital.  I'm Dr. Janice Allbright.  I've been your doctor since you were brought here after that nasty car crash."

            "What car crash?" Lianne demanded.  "I was in bed asleep!"

            Dr. Allbright smiled sadly.  "No, Lianne, dear.  You were in a car crash.  Denial is often a symptom of shock, but I'm afraid it's quite true."

            "But… I remember being at home…"  Lianne looked at the needle again, feeling a little sick.  "What was I doing in the car?"

            "Coming home from your brother's school play," Dr. Allbright replied.

            "Josh's play…"  Lianne gasped.  "Josh!  Is Josh ok?  And Mom…"  She trailed off at the doctor's expression.  "No.  Oh, no.  It's a joke.  Tell me this is all just one big, not-very-funny joke, and I swear I'll never fail a geometry test again.  _Please."_

            "Lianne, dear," Dr. Allbright said gently, "I'm very sorry - "  She stopped.  "Would you like to be alone?"

            "Yes," Li whispered.  "No.  No, I want my mother.  I want my mom!"  As the sobs began to come, Dr. Allbright sat beside her.  The doctor wasn't her mother, wasn't even a decent substitute… but she was a shoulder to cry on.

            "Miss Treyvan?"  One of the nurses, Alison, looked in.  "You have a visitor."

            Lianne nodded, putting her book down.  She hadn't really been able to concentrate on it, anyway.  All she could think about was what had happened, this car crash that she still couldn't remember, and what would happen to her now that she was all alone.

            She'd expected her visitor to be Autumn, or Hazel, or Erin, or maybe Nichole.  Someone from school, anyway.  She hadn't expected some man she'd never seen before.  Especially not some man wearing a dress.  She watched him suspiciously as he came in and sat down.

            "Hello, Lianne," he said, smiling cautiously.  Lianne noted with mild interest that he had a British accent.  "I'm Joseph Harvey."

            "Hi."  She waited patiently for him to continue.  For once, she didn't feel up to being cheerful and bubbly.

            "I expect you're wondering what's going to happen to you now?" Mr. Harvey said.

            "Yeah."  Lianne sighed.  "Foster home, maybe?"

            "Well, yes, that's a possibility," Mr. Harvey agreed.  "But… how would you feel about boarding school?"

            "Boarding school?"  Lianne stared at him in disbelief.  "Leave home?  You've got to be joking!  I want to stay at my high school, with all my friends!"

            "Lianne, please hear me out," Mr. Harvey said persistently.  "Now, this may sound a bit strange to you - "

            "I don't want to go to a boarding school!"  Lianne flung her book at him angrily.  Then -  "Oh, my stars."

            The book was hovering in front of Mr. Harvey.  Five feet off the ground.

            "As I said," Mr. Harvey continued, "this may sound a bit strange.  But I think you've just seen enough proof to believe me.  You're a witch.  And you are invited to attend Hogwa - "

            "I hate you."

            Mr. Harvey stopped, confused.  "I'm sorry?"

            "I said I hate you."  Lianne glared at him.  "Look, just go tell whoever hired you that if they're trying to cheer me up, it isn't working.  This isn't funny."

            "Well, of course not," Mr. Harvey said.  "It's true.  Look."  He pointed at the still-hovering book.

            Lianne bit her lip hard to keep from crying.  She'd been shedding enough tears lately.  "Look, I don't know how you rigged that, and I really don't care.  I'm not going to play this game with you.  I don't believe in magic anymore."

            Mr. Harvey stepped closer to her bed.  "What if I could prove it?"

            "Get out."

            "What if I showed you it was real?"

            "Leave me alone."

            "What if I gave you evidence that not even you could ignore?"

            "What if I screamed for the nurse and sued you for harassing me?"  Lianne pulled away from him.  "Leave.  Now."

            Mr. Harvey took a stick from the pocket of his dress.  "In a moment."

            "If you're not out of here in ten seconds I'm going to yell," Lianne warned him.

            "Feel free," Mr. Harvey replied.  "They can tell from where they are that you're fine.  And they know what I'm trying to explain.  I'm afraid that you're in a wizarding hospital.  Both your nurse and your doctor are witches."

            "Lunatic," Lianne muttered.

            Mr. Harvey just smiled.  Li held her breath as he raised his stick.  And continued to hold it, as he pointed his stick at one of the metal cabinets.  "Do you like rabbits?  I was always rather good at them."  Lianne didn't answer.  She just kept holding her breath.

            Mr. Harvey had just begun to say some absolutely nonsensical words when Nurse Alison came running in.  "Miss Treyvan!  Mr. Harvey, what - "

            "Alison, he's harassing me!" Lianne cried with as much indignation as she could muster.

            "And he made your heart beat go irregular?"  Alison gave Lianne a suspicious look.  "You've been holding your breath."

            "Because he's crazy!" Lianne insisted.  "He's going on about you being a witch."

            "Oh, that."  Alison nodded.  "Yep, went to school at the Maryland Witchcraft Academy.  Aren't you?"

            "That's what I was trying to tell her," Mr. Harvey said impatiently.  "She wouldn't believe me."

            "Oh?"  Alison frowned.  "Really?  Doesn't she know already?"

            "Stop acting like I'm not here!" Lianne screamed, before Mr. Harvey could respond.  "Why are you doing this to me?  I'm not a witch, and neither are you!  Isn't it bad enough that I don't have a family anymore?  Do you have to make fun of my fantasies, too?  It doesn't happen this way!  Girls don't get whisked out of hospitals at the last second to go learn to be witches!  Not in the real world!  In the real world, people die, and they leave their children to go to foster homes!  Not magic schools!  Things don't work like that!  They never work like that!  There's no fairy tale ending to this story, and there's no magic spell that will make everything ok!"

            Mr. Harvey and Alison were both silent for a moment.  "Perhaps I chose the wrong approach," Mr. Harvey said at last.  He pointed his stick at himself.  "_Disapparatus."_

            And he disappeared.

            Lianne froze.  "Where - what - where'd he go?" she asked, feeling like a preschooler at a trick magician's show.

            "He Disapparated."  Alison shook her head.  "It was horribly rude of him to just go poof like that.  He ought to have at least warned us first."

            "Well, I would have," Mr. Harvey said, popping back beside Lianne's bed, making her jump.  "Except I wanted to make certain Lianne here believed me."  He looked down at her.  "Do you?"

            "But…"  Lianne pointed vaguely at the empty air where he'd been standing before.  "But you…"

            "You said you used to believe in magic, Lianne," Mr. Harvey said, plucking her book from the air and handing it to her with a smile.  "Do you think you can again?"

            "So how come I can't just go to witch school here in America?" Lianne asked, frowning.  "Alison said there's one right here in Maryland."

            "Yes, each state does have a wizarding academy," Mr. Harvey agreed, trying not to wince at the way Lianne insisted on calling it a "witch school."  "But in America, the magic standards are somewhat higher than they are in England."

            "What?"  Lianne shook her head.  "Use smaller words.  Single syllables."

            "You don't qualify as a witch in America," Mr. Harvey explained.  "Every person has a different level of magic, and there's a level each country requires you to have before you'll be accepted as a witch."

            "So I can't be a witch in America, but I can be a witch in England?  Is that it?"  Lianne sighed.  "And I thought the drivers' license laws were complicated."

            "Yes, it is rather confusing."  Mr. Harvey smiled sympathetically.  "But if you come to England's wizarding boarding school, you can be trained as a witch, then come back to live in America.  I'm afraid you'd have to leave your old school, but you will get to learn magic."

            "How come England wants me?" Lianne asked suspiciously.

            "Well, it's not England so much as Headmaster Dumbledore - "

            "_Dumbledore?"  Lianne went white.  "Ok, this I __do not believe.  I just don't.  Next you're going to say something like I'll be in class with Harry Potter, or something, aren't you?"_

            "I really don't know what you're talking about."  Mr. Harvey frowned at Lianne.  "Are you feeling all right?  You haven't been overdosing on any medicine?"

            "I'm _fine."  Lianne reminded herself to breathe properly, so as not to make her heart beat irregular again.  That annoyed the nurses ever so much.  "It's just - this is way too much like the books."_

            "What books?"

            Lianne stared at him.  "You know, the Harry Potter books?  The most popular book series in the entire world?"  He continued to look blank.  "Harry Potter.  He saves the wizarding world when he's like a year old, grows up with Muggles, and goes to Hogwarts.  Four books are out now, three will be released in the future.  Does this mean anything to you?"

            "I'm afraid not."  Mr. Harvey's frown deepened.  "You say this is a real book series?"

            "Yes!"

            "Well, it sounds to me like a witch or wizard somewhere has been leaking information," he said thoughtfully.  "I'd better mention it when I fill out your transfer forms.  You say this author's written four books already?"

            "Yeah."  Lianne bit her lip in dismay.  "You won't stop her from writing, will you?  She's really amazing."

            "We'll see," Mr. Harvey replied.  "It really depends on how much of the truth she's put in there.  What's her name?"

            "Joanne Kathleen Rowling," Lianne said promptly.  "She's British, not American."

            "Ah.  Then I should tell our Ministry, as well."  Mr. Harvey looked quite concerned at this point, but continued anyway.  "At any rate, you'll be going to Hogwarts.  You're required to buy your own materials, so before you leave, you'll have to go buy a wand, your spell books, and some decent robes."

            "Will I be leaving very soon?" Lianne asked in surprise.

            "Oh, yes."  Mr. Harvey nodded.  "As soon as you're released from the Hospital - the day after tomorrow, I believe.  Time enough for you to say your goodbyes."  He paused.  "I trust I don't have to remind you not to tell _anyone about becoming a witch."_

            "Not anyone?"  Lianne looked up at him pleadingly.  "My friends - some of them would love to know magic is real - "

            "_No one," Mr. Harvey repeated sternly.  "I warn you, Lianne, I will not hesitate to __stop you from telling anyone, if I must.  A temporary Memory Charm is quite simple."_

            "But…"  Lianne shook her head.  "All right, I won't say anything."  She glanced up.  "Not even one person?"

            "No."

            "Not even if they guess?"

            "No."

            "You're sure?"

            "No - _yes!"_

            "Just checking."

            "I don't believe this!"  Lianne slammed the hospital phone down angrily.  "Three phones, and they're all out at the same time!"  She almost suspected Mr. Harvey of meddling, except that he hadn't the faintest idea how the phone worked.  He seemed to have the impression that there was a person standing on the other side of the wall listening to her through the cord.

            But it couldn't be coincidence, could it?  She tried dialing another number, Autumn's this time.  It rang once… twice… then - "We're sorry.  The number you have dialed has been disconnected.  Please try again later."

            Lianne glowered at the phone as she hung it up again.  _That's Erin, Hazel, Autumn, and Nichole.  Four__ phones out now.  What is it, some sort of massive power outage?_

            "Lianne?  Are you all right?"  The nurse on duty, Marcia, came over to look in.  "There was a loud noise…?"

            "The phone."  Lianne glared at it.  "Every time I try to call one of my friends, it says the number has been disconnected."

            "Could your friends have new phones?" Marcia asked, examining the phone dubiously.

            "What - oh, you mean new numbers?"  Lianne frowned.  "Not all at once.  Maybe one of them, but not all four at the same time."  She looked down at her hands sadly.  "They must be awfully busy.  They never even came to see me."

            "I'm sure they'll be by soon," Marcia assured her quickly.

            But Lianne wasn't reassured.  She'd been in a hospital once before, when she broke her arm, and she'd gotten visitors every day.  A few family friends had dropped by, as well as people her own age.  Now, she hadn't gotten visitors, hadn't gotten flowers, hadn't even gotten a card.  Not that she meant to complain, but she was starting to get the definite feeling of being ignored.

            "Look, do you have a computer?  To connect to Muggle hospitals?" Lianne asked.

            "I think so."  Marcia blinked.  "Why?"

            "Would you look up these people for me on the Internet?"  Lianne looked around for a sheet of paper, and eventually scribbled four names onto a tissue.  "My friends' parents.  I don't want to go off to England without saying goodbye.  Try to get their phone numbers."

            "Sure, if I can."  Marcia smiled.  "Why don't you write to them?  I've heard Muggle phones break all the time, but letters are always safe."

            "Yeah."  Lianne nodded.  "Yeah, I think I'll do that."

_So I'm going to boarding school in England.  I should be back home in a few years.  I'll try to write, ok?  Talk to you soon._

_Love,_

Lianne

            Lianne put the pen down, finishing her last letter.  _I wonder if there's a way to write to Muggles from Hogwarts…  She hoped so.  She'd hate to lose her last link to this life._

            "Lianne?"  Marcia entered, frowning.  "About those names you gave me…"

            "Did you get their numbers?"  Lianne looked up hopefully.

            "Not exactly," Marcia replied.  "I can't work the computer, but David, one of the Muggle-born volunteers, looked these up for me on something - he called it Yahoo?  Well, anyway, you did spell these names right?  Because David says that they don't exist anywhere in the city."

            "What?  _None of them?"  Lianne blinked.  "It must be a computer glitch, or something.  I know I spelled everything right, no one has a particularly difficult name.  It really says they don't exist?"_

            "Well, he found a Calvin Randel living in Pennsylvania," Marcia offered.  "But we thought that was a bit far."

            "No, Hazel lives here in town."  Lianne shook her head.  "I guess it's down to the letters, then.  Or," she brightened, "maybe they'll come see me before I leave tomorrow."

            "I'm sure they will," Marcia said.  "It would have to be something pretty major to stop me from seeing my friend at a time like - well, when she was in the hospital."

            "Yeah."  Lianne frowned slightly.  Somehow, that wasn't very encouraging.

            "They didn't come.  I don't believe they didn't come."  Lianne swallowed back against her tears.  "I guess - I guess we weren't as close as I thought."  She twisted in her seat to watch as the taxi carried her and Mr. Harvey away from the hospital.

            "Don't worry, Lianne," Mr. Harvey said.  "Maybe they just didn't realize you were being released today."  He cast about for something to cheer her up.  "Oh, I have some good news for you."

            "Really."  Lianne wasn't particularly interested.

            "That book series you like so much, about - was it Henry Potter?"

            "Harry.  It's _Harry Potter."_

            "Yes, well," Mr. Harvey cleared his throat, "there haven't been any complaints lodged against it.  As for your Ms. Rowling, she isn't registered as a British witch.  I haven't been able to find copies of her books in any of the bookstores I've checked, but it sounds to me like someone's just made a series of extraordinarily lucky guesses."

            "Maybe."  Lianne frowned suddenly.  "You couldn't find copies of the books?"

            "I'm afraid not."  Mr. Harvey shrugged.  "The employees were rather unhelpful about it.  They seemed to feel that I was making up an author name to be difficult."

            "But - everyone's heard of J. K. Rowling - "  Lianne sighed.  "Oh, what does it matter?  As long as you aren't going to stop her from writing, that's all that's important."

            _It's good for Erin, Hazel, and Autumn, I suppose, she thought, with more than a touch of bitter resentment.  __I can't believe they really didn't come.  She sighed, staring through the window as the streets blurred by.  __At least they'll get my letters.  They'll feel bad then._

            Lianne never knew that the letters were sent back to the hospital.  On them, it big, bold letters, was stamped - 

**RETURN TO SENDER. ADDRESS UNKNOWN.**

**Chapter 11**

_Return to sender_

_Address unknown_

_No such person_

_No such zone._

            "Does anyone know where Lianne is?" Autumn asked.  "She said she'd lend me her graphing calculator for my Pre-Calc test today."

            "I haven't seen her," Hazel said, staring dismally at a page of notes on John Donne's "Valediction."  "But if you do, tell her I'd like her to smash a compass for me."

            "I'll see her in art, second period," Erin offered.  "When's your test?"

            "First period."

            "Ah."  Erin shrugged.  "Well, I tried."  She glanced across the courtyard.  "Why don't you go ask that girl - what's her name?  Nichole?  She and Li are friends, aren't they?  Maybe Lianne's with her."

            "I'll try that."  Autumn got up and walked over.  She tried not to wince as she approached the group of preps that Nichole hung out with.  _Could be worse.  They could be cheerleaders.  "Hey, Nichole?"_

            A blonde looked up, wariness and confusion in her eyes.  "Yes?  Do I know you?"

            "I'm Autumn Vance, a friend of Lianne's," Autumn explained.  "I was wondering if you knew where I could find her."

            "Who?"  Nichole blinked.  "I don't know anyone named Lianne.  For that matter, I don't know you."

            Autumn stared at her.  "What are you talking about?  Lianne said you and she had been friends since sixth grade!"

            "Well, either she's lying, or you want someone else."  Nichole rolled her eyes and turned her back on Autumn.  "Really, some people…"

            Autumn stood there for another few seconds, then turned and walked slowly back to Erin and Hazel.

            "She didn't know?" Erin asked.

            "Not exactly."  Autumn frowned pensively.  "Are you sure that's the right Nichole?"

            "Pretty sure, yeah."  Erin nodded.  "Why?"

            "She just said she didn't know anyone named Lianne."  Autumn shook her head, puzzled.  "I could've sworn it was the same girl, too, but I must've made a mistake.  Weird."

            "Look, borrow _my graphing calculator."  Hazel pulled it out of her backpack.  "Just don't break it, ok?  And don't load any games onto it."_

            "Ok, thanks."  Autumn took the calculator.  "I'll ask Lianne about Nichole during lunch.  I must've had the wrong girl."

            "So is anyone absent?"  Ms. Holland, the art teacher, glanced over the class, mentally checking people off as she waited for one of the group to mention missing people.

            Erin raised her hand.  "Lianne's not here."

            "Who?"  Ms. Holland shook her head.  "Very funny, Erin.  I thought the class outgrew that sort of ridiculous, immature joke after the first week."

            "What joke?" Erin asked blankly.  Ms. Holland ignored her.  She turned to Jesse, the junior sitting beside her.  "What joke?"

            "Give it up, Erin," Jesse said, sighing.  "You aren't fooling anyone."

            "About what?" Erin demanded, annoyance beginning to color her words.  "I tell you I don't know what you're talking about!"

            Jesse rolled his eyes.  "There's no Lianne in this class and well you know it.  I thought you were the smart one who never tried to pester Ms. Holland, huh?"

            "But - "  Erin stopped, unsure what to say.  She'd noticed when she walked in that some of Lianne's artwork had been taken off the drying rack - all of it, actually - but she hadn't thought anything of it.  Lianne liked to take her finished pieces home and hang them on her wall.  Erin had assumed that had been it.  But maybe not…

            "Did she get thrown out?"

            "What?"  Jesse turned to face her.  "What are you talking about?"

            "Lianne.  Did she get kicked out of the class?  Or," Erin thought of something a bit more likely, "did she get moved to a higher level?"

            "Erin.  Stop.  You are not funny."  Jesse looked at her in disbelief.   "Will you give up this whole Lianne thing already?  I need these notes on perspective, my buildings are always crooked."  He proceeded to ignore her throughout the rest of the class period, no matter how agitated her questions became.

            "Ok, is anyone starting to think this is getting strange?"  Autumn stared at Erin incredulously.  "Erin, if it were anyone but you, I'd suspect you of making it up."

            "I'm telling you the truth!" Erin insisted.  "Everyone said - "

            "I know, I know, I believe you!" Autumn said hastily.  "You wouldn't make something like this up.  Lianne, now, she might… but not you."

            "Maybe she _did get moved out of the class, and that boy just never knew she was there in the first place," Hazel suggested.  "We could ask in Guidance."_

            "We can do that?" Autumn asked, surprised.  "They'll tell us?"

            "I don't see why they wouldn't."  Hazel shrugged, closing her notebook with a snap.  "I'm done eating, and if I have to look at John Donne and his poetry another moment, I may tear something up.  Should we go now?"

            "No reason not to."  Erin stood.  "Onward?"

            They trooped into the main building and down to the Guidance office.  "Can I help you?" the lady at the desk, Mrs. Brandon, asked.

            "We want to know about a class change," Erin said politely.

            "All right."  Mrs. Brandon opened a drawer.  "You'll need to get the teacher of the class you're switching out of to sign this form - "

            "No, no, _we don't want to switch classes," Autumn interrupted.  "A friend of ours did, and we want to know what she switched into."_

            "Can't you just ask her?" Mrs. Brandon wanted to know.

            "She's not here today," Erin replied.  "Can you tell us, please?"

            "Sure."  Mrs. Brandon swiveled her chair to face the computer and clicked an icon, opening a program.  "All right.  What's her name?  Last name first."

            "Treyvan, comma, Lianne," Hazel said.  "T-R-E-Y-V-A-N, and the 'Lianne' has two N's and an E at the end."

            Mrs. Brandon smiled as Hazel recited this, but the smile faded as her search of the records was completed.  "I'm not finding anything.  Are you sure she really has switched classes?"

            "We thought she had."  Erin, Autumn, and Hazel exchanged worried glances.

            "Well, I'll check the main records."  Mrs. Brown typed something more.  "That's T-R-A-Y - "

            "_E," Erin corrected.  "T-R-__E­-Y-V-A-N.  Treyvan."_

            "I don't even see any records for a Lianne Treyvan," Mrs. Brandon said, frowning.  "There's a _Josh Treyvan, but no Lianne.  Are you quite sure you've got the spelling?"_

            "Well, we could be wrong," Erin conceded reluctantly.

            "Why don't you just ask her about it tomorrow?" Mrs. Brandon suggested.  "I can't help you if you can't spell her name."

            "Thank you.  We'll do that."  Hazel smiled, before they left.  But her smile clicked off like a light the moment they passed through the door.  "I did _not spell her name wrong!  That was her brother, Josh, that the records turned up.  Something is __wrong here!"_

            "Look, lunch is nearly over," Erin pointed out.  "Her house is on my way home, why don't I swing by and ask Lianne herself what's going on?"

            "May I help you?"  A rather harassed-looking woman opened the door.  _Li's mother.  Definitely, Erin thought.  The woman's hair was strawberry-blond, but she had Lianne's same green eyes.  "You must be here to see Josh?"_

            "Uh, no," Erin said.  "I'm here for Lianne, actually.  She wasn't in school today?"

            "Lianne?"  The woman cocked her head slightly as she frowned, one of Lianne's little mannerisms.  "Is she one of Josh's girlfriends?"

            "I hope not."  Erin was starting to get a decided feeling of dejá vu.  "Isn't she your daughter?"

            "I haven't got a daughter," the woman said, bemused.  "Just my son Josh.  The lady next door has a daughter, though.  Maybe you just have the wrong house."

            "Aren't you Mrs. Treyvan?" Erin asked.  Not that there was much point.  This woman _had to be a relative of Li's.  The way she held herself, the way she spoke, all of it mirrored Lianne._

            "_Ms. Treyvan," the woman corrected.  "Yes, but I really don't know what you're talking about."  She frowned.  "If this is a joke, you are not at all amusing."_

            "It isn't!" Erin insisted, refusing to give in to the panic that threatened.  "Please, Ms. Treyvan, tell me where Lianne is.  Please."

            "I don't know a Lianne," Ms. Treyvan said coolly.  "Now - whoever you are - if you don't leave, I'm going to call the police."  She shut the door in Erin's face.

            Erin stayed there, all but frozen in place, for a moment more before going slowly back to her car.  _This isn't a joke, she thought dazedly.  __It isn't.  It can't be.  Then she remembered something._

            She grabbed her backpack and pulled out her notebook, her private notebook, where she had her last letter from the person who claimed he was Remus.  _I don't believe it, I don't, I've remembered wrong, I must have remembered wrong -_

            She found the letter and scanned through it without even bothering to pull it out.  She exhaled sharply.  "Oh, no way.  No possible way."

Author's Note:  Ok, since this has been taking so long, I decided to cut things off here.  This was originally intended to be one part, but things are stretching out way longer than I expected.  So this bit ends here, and I'll just keep working on the other half.  I'm trying to get through it as quick as I can, but there's still a _lot of stuff that needs to happen, and I really don't think I have another suitable breaking-off point.  On the bright side, I'm nearly done with Pretend That You Love Me.  And my muse is grinning.  Oh, dear.  I have a very bad feeling about this.  She only smiles when plotting something nasty to do to me.  I have a feeling that a rather inconvenient inspiration may strike soon…  Zhai'helleva!_

Love,

Mystica


	8. So Much For Kansas

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  For those of you who care, we've hit the fifty-page mark.  It amuses me to know that, so I thought I might as well tell everyone else.  So anyway.  This part has quite a lot to cover, as I've said, but I hope it's still interesting, even if it is long.  Try not to get bored, kay?

**_Part 7 – So Much For Kansas_**

**Chapter 12**

_What would I give to live where you are_

_What would I pay to stay here beside you_

_What would I do to see you_

_Smiling at me?_

            "I am losing my mind."

            James looked over at Sirius.  "Haven't we been over this already?"  He ducked a swat of Remus's hand.  "Well, we have!"

            "A _new sort of losing my mind," Sirius conceded.  "And this one isn't nearly as much fun."_

            "It can get worse?" James asked under his breath.

            "Yes, it can."  Sirius gave his friend a nasty look.  "But as you aren't interested, I shall simply have to suffer in silence."

            "So it isn't about Lianne?" Remus asked, when it became obvious Sirius was waiting for someone to.

            "Not exactly."  Sirius sighed with real sadness, causing James and Peter to look up in astonishment.  "It's about how I haven't seen her in three days.  I'm getting worried."

            James frowned.  He'd already experienced one of Sirius's rather violent reactions to the tentative suggestion that Lianne really was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, so he didn't think suggesting a Lucid Dreaming Elixir would be a particularly good idea.  Unfortunately, it was all he could come up with.

            "I thought you saw her every night," Remus said, confused.

            "I did, up till three nights ago."  Sirius pulled his feet up onto the armrest of the library chair he was sitting on, scowling fiercely at nothing.  "Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe she really _is just a – "_

            "I don't believe that!"  They all looked at Remus in surprise.  "Come on, Sirius, we know there's magic in the world!  If there's magic, why can't there be a magical true love?"

            Sirius blinked.  "You sound like me.  You sound like _her."_

            Remus glared.  "You're missing the point, Padfoot.  You're too smart to fall in love with a dream.  I know you are!  If you're in love with this girl, then _I, at least, will continue to believe that she isn't just a dream.  I believe, and will __keep on believing, that she is __real!"_

            James applauded at the end of Remus's speech, spoiling the effect.  But the point seemed to have gotten across.

            Sirius nodded.  "Ok.  Ok, thanks, Moony.  I do believe in her."  He laughed.  "Even if I have lost my mind."

            "Ok, fine, I'll go.  Even if I have lost my mind."  Lianne gave Mr. Harvey one more doubtful look, the walked straight at the wall between the CD store and the shoe store.

            To her amazement, she stepped right through it.  _I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, she told herself.  __I mean, there's Diagon Alley, there's Platform 9 3/4, of course America would have places where you can walk through walls -  "Ow!"_

            She turned to glare indignantly at Mr. Harvey.  "I'm sorry, Lianne, I thought you'd gotten out of the way," he apologized.  "Now, I believe some Americans will accept either wizard money or – what are they called?  Dollars?  Well, most stores accept either, so you shouldn't have to go to the Gringotts office until you get your wand.  I have some things of my own I need.  I'll meet you back here in an hour and a half?"

            Lianne nodded.  "But where – "

            "There's a mall directory right up there."  Mr. Harvey pointed at the wall behind her.  "I'll see you later."  He walked away.

            Lianne sighed.  "Ok, fine.  I guess I'm on my own."  She looked around, and spotted the directory.  Struggling through the crowd of people, some wearing Muggle clothing, some in robes, she went to examine it.

            Words wrote themselves on it as she approached: 

Welcome to the Baltimore City Wizarding Mall.  Please select the category of shopping you wish to search.

Accessories

Animals

Books

Clothing

Food

Magical Supplies

Miscellaneous

Music

Toys

            Lianne stared for a moment, then laughed aloud, ignoring the people who turned to stare at her.  "Real magic.  Go figure."  She glanced at the list of supplies she needed.  "Um… clothing?  Can I search that?"

            More words appeared:

Clothing:  Please select the form of clothing you wish to search.

Children's

Costumes

Formal

Men's

Women's

Other

            Lianne gave the "Other" category a suspicious glance before deciding, "Well, I don't think I'm a child anymore, so I'd better search for women's."

            This time, a map formed, apparently of the mall.  A flashing red light was marked "You are here" while steady green lights marked four separate shops where she could find women's clothing.  Figuring she didn't want to get too far away, so that she couldn't get _too lost, Lianne decided on the closest, Galadriel's Garments._

            "Thank you," she told the directory, hoping it could understand things that weren't direct commands.  After a moment:

You are welcome.

            Lianne grinned and hurried away.

            Lianne woke up with a start, staring around the unfamiliar room in bewilderment before remembering just where she was.  Mr. Harvey had dropped her off at the airport yesterday, and she'd flown over to England.  She'd been met by a female Ministry worker, Clara Simmons, who'd brought her to Hogsmeade – actually Hogsmeade! – and arranged for her to stay the night at an inn, the Night Owl.  And today…

            _Today I am going to Hogwarts.  Lianne stared at the bed in front of her with a sigh.  It was almost anti-climactic, after all the times she'd imagined it.  She'd usually envisioned something along the lines of Sirius swooping down on his flying motorcycle to carry her off to a world of magic and fantasy.  Not being passed on from person to person for them to watch over until they could hand her over to someone else, as though she was just so much inconvenient luggage.  Not being all but snatched away from her home without even getting a chance to say goodbye to her friends, because her family got killed in some car accident that might as well have never happened, for all she could remember it._

            And she didn't even have her dreams of Sirius to comfort her.  It seemed that ever since she'd learned that, hey, she really _was a witch, all her previous fantasies had deserted her.  And just pretending he was there didn't work anymore.  Not after dreaming about him like she had.  It wasn't enough, and never would be again.  She bit her lip hard, using the sharp pain to force back her tears.  If she started crying now, she'd never stop._

            "I've lost her."

            "Sirius, will you calm down?"  James was starting to get truly alarmed.  He'd woken up to find Sirius, who was not exactly one of nature's early risers, already awake, just staring at the wall.  "Four days really isn't that long, you know."

            "And you said you believed she was real," Remus reminded him.

            "Oh, I believe, all right," Sirius said.  If voices were colors, James thought, the one Sirius was using would have been grey.  It was not a reassuring notion.  "And – I can't explain it.  I just know I'm never going to dream about her again.  So I've lost her."

            It would have been pointless to ask how he knew.  That was assuming there was still some measure of logic to the whole business.  Anyway, logic and Sirius might often end up in the same sentence, but if so, it was only to demonstrate the concept of antonyms.

            "What are you going to do about it?" Peter asked hesitantly.  "If that's true, I mean."

            "What do you mean, 'what am I going to do?'"  Sirius stared at Peter blankly.  "I'm going to study for my O.W.L.s, finish my fifth year, go home for the summer – "

            "I meant, what about Lianne?" Peter clarified.

            "Can I do anything?"  Sirius shook his head.  "I told you, I know I can't – I won't – well, I know the dreams are over.  What do you expect me to do, throw myself off the Astronomy Tower?"

            "You aren't planning to, are you?" Remus asked cautiously.

            "No, of course not."  Sirius looked at the wall again.  "It would hurt too much."

            "Ah."  Remus frowned, unsure as to whether or not this was a good thing.  He glanced at his watch.  "Um – you know, we have breakfast soon…"

            "I know.  You guys go ahead," Sirius told them.  "I'm not hungry."

            James gave his friend a sharp look.  "Starvation isn't exactly a painless death, either," he pointed out.

            "True."  Sirius nodded thoughtfully.  "Maybe I'll come with you, after all."

            When they went down to the Common Room, Anya Marrette, Lily Evans's best friend – and the biggest gossip in the House – immediately pounced on them.  "So are the rumors true?"

            "Which rumors?" James asked warily.  Caution always paid off with Anya.  You never knew what she'd heard.  Once, she'd gone around insisting that Dumbledore was having an affair with – of all people! – Flitwick.  Because the two professors had been locked in Dumbledore's office for a scandalizing fifteen minutes, deep in discussion.  Or, as Anya put it, "discussion – cough, cough."

            "The Slytherins say Sirius's gone insane."  The blonde turned to the Marauder in question.  "Have you?"

            "Have I what?"  Sirius appeared to notice the girl for the first time.

            "Gone insane," Anya said patiently.  "Snape says you're hallucinating about some nonexistent American Muggle – "  She stopped in mid-sentence as Sirius, white-faced, strode past her to the portrait hole.  James ran after while Remus stayed a moment to apologize.

            "I'm going to kill him," Sirius said conversationally as James caught up with him.  "I haven't decided how yet, but I know it will be torturously painful.  And if it was one of you three who told him – "

            "We'd never!" James snapped indignantly.

            "Good.  I'd hate to have to kill someone I like."  Sirius shoved the portrait open viciously, earning himself a squawk of outrage from the Fat Lady, who he'd never really gotten along with.  "Shut up."

            "You know, Padfoot, death might not be the answer here," James suggested delicately, scrambling to keep up with his longer-legged friend.  "I mean, you know Anya, she could've heard you herself and blamed it on Snape to make things more interesting – "

            "James, I am _not in a good mood right now!" Sirius growled.  "And McGonagall is always telling me I need to learn to share."_

            "This probably isn't what she – "

            "_Prongs!"_

            James shut up.  He could usually tell when he could push Sirius, and when he couldn't.  Right now, his Best Friend Radar was screaming that this was definitely a time when he couldn't.  Maybe he could run get Madam Kelari in enough time to keep Snape alive.  Not that he cared what happened to the slimeball, but he knew Sirius would be sorry for it later.  Like when he got expelled.

            "Now, Miss – Trivon, isn't it?"

            Lianne sighed.  "_Treyvan.  You know, like the 'tray' you carry?"_

            "I'm sorry, Miss Treyvon – "

            "Ok, how about just Lianne."  She shook her head a little.  She didn't think it was a particularly difficult name…

            "All right."  Professor McGonagall nodded.  Lianne had nearly fainted when she met her.  Not only was this a book character – _well, I thought__ she was a book character – but she was so __young.  She couldn't have been teaching more than five years.  It was kind of disappointing.  "Well, Lianne, Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, is going to announce you to the students at breakfast this morning.  We haven't had a transfer student in years, so there'll probably be a bit of a fuss over you."_

            "Am I going to get Sorted?" Lianne asked hopefully.  She'd always wondered where the real Sorting Hat would put her.

            "What – "  McGonagall looked briefly flustered.  "Someone mentioned – well, I suppose it's better if you know.  Yes, you'll be sorted into one of four Houses – Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor.  Your House is where – "

            "That's ok, I know already."  Lianne lifted her bag from the floor to her lap.  She'd been told to just leave her suitcases in the hall – she'd gotten strange looks, for not having a trunk – but she'd refused to let go of the bag with her art supplies in it.  She'd go crazy if she lost her sketchbook.

            "Really."  McGonagall didn't look pleased.  "Someone's been rather talkative at the Ministry, I see.  Well, Lianne," she stood, "just wait here until you hear Dumbledore call you, all right?"

            "All right."  Lianne nodded, and her wand fell out of her hair, clattering on the floor.  McGonagall winced.  She'd looked mildly horrified to find Lianne using her wand as a common hair stick, but she hadn't said anything.  Lianne didn't see the problem.  At least she always knew where it was.

            "You know, he might legitimately be sick," James suggested, exasperated.  "People do actually go to the hospital wing for that, you know."

            "Hah."  Sirius was unmollified.

            "If I were Snape, I'd hide from Sirius right now," Peter said.

            "Well, he can't hide forever."  Sirius took a steadying breath.  "I want to know how he found out about Li.  How dare he spread rumors about her, anyway?"

            "Padfoot – "

            "Don't tell me to calm down, Moony," Sirius warned.  "I'm not in a calming down mood."

            He stopped talking as the people around them fell silent.  "What's going on?" James asked, looking up.

            "Haven't you been listening?" said a third-year a few seats down.  "There's a transfer student coming from America.  Dumbledore's just announced her.  She's going to be Sorted."

            "Really?"  Remus looked interested.  "We haven't had a transfer since my parents were here.  I wonder why we have one now…"

            "Who cares?"  Sirius was about to go back to ranting under his breath when he sat up straight in shock.  "That's her!"

            "What?"  The other three Marauders twisted to see the girl who'd walked out.  She had her brown hair pulled back by her wand, which seemed rather disrespectful.  Other than that, there was nothing particularly outstanding about her.

            Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to disagree.  "That's Lianne!"

            Lianne kept her eyes down as she walked out.  Crowds didn't usually bother her, but she wasn't usually the focus of their attention.  It was kind of different when they were staring at you, than when you were doing the staring.

            She glanced up at the man – the wizard – she was standing beside.  He was very tall, with long auburn hair streaked with white.  Again, she felt cheated, somehow.  She'd expected him to have pure white hair and beard.  She consoled herself by noting how very blue his eyes were, and that he really did have half-moon spectacles.

            Apparently, she was expected to do something.  "Hello," she offered, when nothing else came to mind.

            Dumbledore took pity on her.  "Hello, Lianne.  Welcome to Hogwarts."  He steered her to a stool.  "Sit here, please."

            Lianne sat, trying hard to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.  _This is it, she thought, rocking the stool back and forth a little on its slightly uneven legs.  __A couple weeks ago, I'd've killed__ to be – She stopped that thought where it was.  She didn't want to think about killing to get here.  Definitely not._

            "Now, this – thank you, Minerva – " Dumbledore took a battered old hat from McGonagall, "this is the Sorting Hat.  You just put it on, and it will decide which House you belong in."

            Lianne nodded, and took the hat from him.  She wished it looked a bit more like the pictures, with eyes and a mouth slit.  _But then again, do I really__ want to put my head in something that has a mouth?  She lifted the Sorting Hat to her head.  __Now or never, I suppose._

            She let the hat drop to cover her face, its brim hitting her somewhere around mid-neck.  _Whoever this hat was made for must've been enormous__.  Hagrid-size, I bet.  I wonder how many half-giants – _

            "Well, Miss Treyvan, I see you know something about the Sorting process already."

            Lianne nearly fell off the stool as the voice sounded.  She'd been expecting _something, yes, but she hadn't realized it would be like this, as though there was actually a person standing behind her, whispering in her ear._

            "And – well.  That's interesting."  The hat – _was it the hat?  It had to be – sounded surprised.  "So you think you're a Slytherin?"_

            Lianne bit her lip.  She'd always insisted she belonged in Slytherin, out of a deep dislike for all the annoying Gryffindors.  But now – _have I ever heard of a nice__ person in Slytherin?  They're all called ambitious, or power-hungry, and usually evil.  Fans might argue that Slytherins were merely misunderstood, but somehow, Li wasn't so sure that was the case anymore._

            "Nice recovery, my dear.  Shouldn't like to send a nice girl like you into that House.  No, I think you'd fit best in - "

            "Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor – "

            "Will you be _quiet?"  James shot an annoyed look at his friend.  "Muttering is supposed to be __soft."_

            Sirius paid no attention, continuing to stare at the girl who'd just put on the Sorting Hat, repeating his prayer for her placing over and again.  James sighed, offering up his own hopes.  _Just don't put her in Slytherin.  Not Slytherin, that's all I ask._

            A rip opened in the hat.  Sirius fell silent immediately.  James closed his eyes, afraid to listen, knowing how bad this could turn out to be.  _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin…_

            The hat made its decision.

            "HUFFLEPUFF!"

            Lianne stared at the inside of the hat in shock.  "_Hufflepuff?"_

            But the hat was clearly through speaking to her.  She didn't wait longer than an instant before taking it off and handing it to Professor Dumbledore.  He directed her to the politely applauding table decked in yellow and black.

            She didn't pay too much attention to what was happening as the students at the table tugged her into one of the empty seats.  She could hardly believe it.  Hufflepuff was the one House she'd never envisioned herself in.  No one ever did.  She'd never thought that hard-working even particularly described her.

            Then she realized that about half the students at the table had sketchbooks open in front of them.  She began to smile.  _Maybe that hat knew what it was doing after all…_

            "_Hufflepuff?"_

            "Padfoot, there is nothing wrong with Hufflepuff!" Remus insisted.  "It's a very respectable House!"

            "Much better than Slytherin," James agreed.  Personally, he was too relieved that his worst fears hadn't been realized to feel insulted on Lianne's behalf.  Looking at her, he didn't really think she felt insulted at all.  A little stunned, perhaps, but that was probably just the surprise of a talking hat.

            "But she deserves better than Hufflepuff!" Sirius wailed.

            "I think you're making too big a deal out of this," James said firmly.  "The Sorting Hat put her in Hufflepuff, so that's where she belongs.  Most Hufflepuffs just wouldn't be happy in Gryffindor."

            "It isn't an attack on her personality, no matter what you seem to think," Remus added.  "Peter was almost in Hufflepuff, and there's nothing wrong with him!"

            "And all the Hufflepuffs are really nice," Peter offered.  "It's kind of a compliment.  Like, she's a nice person, so let's put her with other nice people."

            "She ought to be a Gryffindor," Sirius muttered rebelliously.

            "Does it matter?" Remus asked reasonably.  "I mean, she's the same person no matter what House she's in, isn't she?"

            Sirius scowled, but there wasn't much he could say to that.  Except – "You sound like a professor."

            "Oh, no!  The horror."  Remus grinned.  "Someone has to.  I can't see you taking your problems to McGonagall."

            Sirius snorted softly.  "She'd send me straight to Madam Kelari."  He laughed suddenly.  "Hey – now I don't have to worry about going to the hospital wing!  My dreams really are over!"

            "Yeah…"  James frowned.  _Is that a good thing, he wondered, __or a bad thing?_

            "So are you going to talk to her?" Peter asked curiously.

            Sirius blinked.  "Well – yes, of course.  Why wouldn't I?"

            "I dunno."  Peter shrugged.  "Just – if you only know her from your dreams, I wasn't sure she'd know you."

            Sirius paled.  "She'll know me.  She has to."  He turned imploringly to James.  "She'll know me, right, Prongs?"

            "Of course," James reassured his friend quickly.  "You're very difficult to forget."

            Sirius glared.  "That is _not what I meant and you know it."  He craned his head to get a proper view of Lianne at the other table.  "She isn't looking at me.  What if she really __doesn't know me?  What if I __am going crazy?"_

            "You could go talk to her," James suggested.  "She'd either recognize you immediately, or not at all.  Then you'd know."

            "What, like _now?"  Sirius leaned back in his chair hurriedly.  "No.  No, definitely not."_

            Remus gaped at the taller Marauder.  "Sirius, you aren't _scared?"_

            "Yes, and you would be, too," Sirius said bluntly.  "If she doesn't recognize me, then that's it.  I won't have a choice but to report myself as an official nutcase.  I'd have to be some sort of idiot not to be scared."  He dropped his gaze to the table.  "I almost don't want to know."

            "Well, I do."  James stood up.  "I'm going to talk to her."

            Lianne pushed a piece of sausage around her plate aimlessly.  They'd already fed her at the Night Owl, so she wasn't noticeably hungry.  The people in her House had insisted on forcing food on her, though.  They had made it clear that breakfast was _not the most important meal of the day in this House – it had a three-way tie with lunch and dinner.  No one was going to let the new girl get away without a plate filled with food she wasn't interested in eating._

            "'Scuze me, are you Lianne Treyvan?"

            Lianne twisted in her seat – and her eyebrows shot as high as they could go.  She came within an inch of calling the boy in front of her "Harry Potter" before she realized his eyes were decidedly blue-grey, and not green in the slightest.  But he had everything else – messy black hair, glasses – all right, these were gold-rimmed rather than black, but still, they were there – and he was only as tall as she was.

            "Yes?" she said, realizing he was expecting some form of reply.

            "Ok.  Good."  He didn't seem to have a very clear idea of why he'd come over.  "I'm James Potter."

            _James Potter.  Lianne swallowed hard.  If she hadn't had so much proof that all this was real already, she definitely would have begun doubting here.  __James Potter.  The father, rather than the son.  The fourth Marauder.  From the previous generation._

            _The previous generation…  Lianne inhaled sharply, almost whistling backwards.  __James Potter's best friend…  She had to ask.  She had to, even though she probably wouldn't like the answer.  She'd never forgive herself if she didn't at least ask._

            "Say, James," she knew she didn't sound casual, but she'd always been a lousy actress, "do you know a Sirius Black, by any chance?"

            That startled him.  "You know Sirius?  Really?"

            "Oh – " Lianne said the first thing that popped into her head, "I met him when his family was visiting America.  Last summer."

            James frowned a little.  "I thought they went to visit a cousin in France last summer."

            "Um… change of plans?" Lianne said hopefully.

            Enlightenment struck James's face.  "Oh.  I see."  A pleased, rather surprised smile spread across his face.  "Yeah, he's mentioned you, and he thought he recognized you."

            Lianne stared up at the boy, hardly daring to form the hope into the words of an actual thought.  "Really?  He remembers me?"  She ducked down to grab her bag suddenly, startling James.  "Well – if he really does, he'll remember how I made him pose for a few hours.  I have that picture finished, and watercolored… if he'd like it?"  She ended as more of a question than a statement, gently tearing the page from her sketchbook along the dotted line.

            "Well… I guess he would."  James took the picture uncertainly.  "I'll give it to him."

            "Thanks."  Lianne smiled gratefully.  "Tell him – tell him I'm very glad he remembers me."

            "I think he'd want me to say the same to you."  James smiled back at her, with real warmth.  Something about what she'd said, or how she'd said it, had somehow made him very happy.

            "Well?  Well?"  Sirius turned away as James approached.  "No, never mind, don't tell me.  I don't want to know."

            "Ok.  Fine."  James grinned.  "I'll just keep this picture for myself, then.  Though what I'd want with a painting of _you – "_

            "What picture?" Sirius demanded, spinning in his seat so fast it skidded on the floor.  "You mean she really did remember?"

            "As far as I could tell."  James shrugged.  "You did go to France over the summer, right?"

            "What's that got to do with it?"  Sirius snatched in vain at the picture James was holding just out of his reach.  "Come on, what picture?"

            "She says you met when you came to America last summer."  James laughed.  "And much as I'm enjoying being taller than you, if you stand up – ok, there you go."  He let go of the picture as Sirius jumped to his feet to claim it.

            "I remember this!"  Sirius stared at the painting in amazement.  "She made me sit and pose for ages, and she kept complaining about how I'm a horrible model.  I kept laughing, and that made her laugh, and then she couldn't draw.  She had to start over twice."

            "Have you ever even been to America?" Remus asked.

            "Don't think so."  Sirius wasn't paying much attention.  "It's her.  I can't believe it.  It's really truly _her."_

            Slowly, he began really grinning for the first time in four days.

            Lianne hesitated in the hall as everyone hurried off to their first classes, not quite sure where she should be.  She'd watched the Gryffindor table hopefully as they all got up to go, but she supposed she'd missed Sirius.  If he was really there.  She still wasn't quite sure she believed it.  She didn't think she would believe it, until she saw him.

            "Miss Treyvan?"  Lianne looked behind her with a start, to see Professor Dumbledore.  "Would you come with me, please?"

            "Um… sure."  Lianne followed the Headmaster as he led her through the Great Hall to a staircase.  He didn't say anything more as they traveled up it, and through twisting corridors that were positively horrific to a girl who could easily get lost walking from her house to the bus stop, which was on the adjoining street.  She wasn't sure if the wizard was thinking, or if he was just trying to give her time to adjust to the strangeness of her new surroundings.

            Lianne supposed she ought to have been more frightened than she was, but instead she was fascinated by – what else? – the paintings.  She just itched to stop and examine one of the landscapes people wandered in and out of, or maybe ask questions of a portrait as to how it was painted.  An Impressionistic overgrown cottage had painted dots of sunshine actually streaming down from between two clouds, while a more realistic woman chatted with a Picasso-like young man in front of it.

            The only reason Lianne even noticed they'd reached their destination was by the sudden lack of interesting paintings to look at.  She realized with a start that this must be Dumbledore's office.  Personally, she found it somewhat duller than it was described.  Of course, if she thought of the time as being before the descriptions she knew were written, that made things easier.  If quite a bit more confusing.

            "Now, Miss Treyvan – "  Dumbledore stopped.  "Am I pronouncing it correctly?  Treyvan?  I've rarely found anything as irritating as a mispronounced name."

            "No, you've got it right," Lianne assured him.  "Treyvan.  Lianne Treyvan."

            "Miss Treyvan, then."  Dumbledore nodded.  "I'm afraid you have a rather difficult choice ahead of you.  You've been raised as a Muggle until the past few days, have you not?"  Lianne nodded.  "So you've had no training in wizardry whatever."

            "Not unless you count reading just about the entire fantasy section in the library."  Li grinned.

            "I'm afraid not."  Dumbledore's eyes smiled at her from behind his glasses.  "But you're four years older than our current class of first years.  If you'd started training when you should have, you'd be a fifth year right now."

            "Is that bad?" Lianne asked warily.

            "Well… it's certainly inconvenient for you," Dumbledore told her.  "It leaves you with only two options.  One, you could be put in a class with the rest of the first years, and  graduate with them in seven years' time."

            "When I'm twenty-two?"  Lianne shook her head stubbornly.  "No way.  If the second choice is shorter, that's what I want."

            "It won't be easy," Dumbledore warned.  "I assume you want to graduate as quickly as possible.  Correct?"

            Lianne nodded firmly.  "I want to go home."  She glanced at her hands to hide the fact that she was blinking back tears.  "I miss my friends."  She did her best to keep the bitterness out of her words.

            "Then what you need," Dumbledore declared, "is a crash course in magic, theory and practical.  I've discussed your situation with the professors, and they have agreed to temporarily give up their planning periods.  When one teacher has a free period, he or she will teach you that subject until the class is over."

            "I think I can do that – " Lianne began.

            "Just wait, Miss Treyvan," Dumbledore cautioned.  "I must warn you that if this is what you want to try, you will be rushed through classes that most people take seven years to complete.  I expect you'd like to graduate with the fifth years?"

            "I'd _like to," Lianne said cautiously._

            "Then you have a little less than three years."  Dumbledore sighed.  "You'll have to give up nearly all of your weekends, and Christmas and Easter breaks.  I'll try to arrange something for the summer, as well, so you probably won't have much of a break there either.  But you can still choose the slower option, if you like."

            Lianne frowned.  "I don't know if I can work that hard," she said honestly.

            Dumbledore nodded.  "It will not be very enjoyable."

            "And I'm not sure I can learn everything quickly enough."  She shook her head.  "What happens if I just don't understand something?"

            "A tutor can be arranged for, if you'd like," Dumbledore offered.  "Or you could choose one from the friends I'm sure you'll be making.  Hufflepuffs are a friendly lot, they'll be glad to help you if you need it."

            "I guess."  Li pulled her wand out of her hair and stared at it.  Blue sparks fell from it, leaving a trail to hang in the air.  "What would you pick, sir?"

            Dumbledore smiled.  "Personally, I'd try the quicker method.  If it doesn't work out, we can always try placing you in the slower classes.  But you won't be able to switch from the usual classes into this."

            She nodded.  "True.  And no offense, but I really don't think I want to be here longer than I have to.  Even though it does seem very – magical."  She grinned.

            "I understand."  Dumbledore smiled, before pulling out a folder.  "I wasn't sure whether you'd want this option or not, but I went ahead and drew you up a schedule, anyway.  The only spot left to fill is your elective.  Though most Hogwarts students take two, only one is required.  The list is – oh – "  He rifled through the papers in the folder.  "Drat, I seem to have lost it – no, here it is."  He handed her a sheet of flat parchment, which Lianne thought was a bit odd, seeing as how all the descriptions talked about _rolls._

            She looked down at it.  There was a list of the courses and what they involved, including a few that the books had never even mentioned.  She read one in surprise:

Magical Photography –  the art of photographs.  Learn how to take pictures to advantage, and study the history of the magical camera as related to the Muggle camera.  Students will be required to provide a camera, and advanced years will need ingredients to brew Developing Concoctions.  Practical exams will include taking photographs, developing pictures in both magical and Muggle techniques, and showing mastery of the interaction between images in a photograph.

            "What _are these?" Lianne wondered aloud, blinking.  She was supposed to choose one of these things?  __Now?_

            Dumbledore took her question at face value.  "These are extra subjects that students may choose to specialize in.  I believe Muggle schools offer things like art, or drama.  Students here generally choose something that they think will help them with their careers."

            Lianne shook her head.  "I want to be an artist – and illustrator, actually.  And there's no art class here."

            "I'm afraid not," Dumbledore agreed.  "We did try it a few years ago, but after a group of young men tie-dyed the Astronomy Tower, I was forced to give up on the idea."

            Lianne grinned, but it quickly faded back to an expression of bewilderment.  "What subject would you choose?" she asked.

            "Well, my electives were Care of Magical Creatures and the Study of Ancient Runes," Dumbledore told her.  "But in your position?"  He closed his eyes in a moment's thought.  "Not Care of Magical Creatures, nor Magical Photography.  Those classes would be too difficult to speed up.  Arithmancy is rarely a good subject for an artist, and I've always thought it rather dull in any case.  You were Muggle-born, so Muggle Studies would be wasted on you."  He opened his eyes.  "What classes are left?"

            Lianne looked down at the sheet.  "Um… Illusions, Wizardry Across the Globe, and Study of Wizarding Laws.  Oh – and Divination."

            "Ah."  Dumbledore nodded.  "Wizarding Laws is mainly a debate class, so that one's left out.  Any of the other four would be workable, though – Divination, Wizardry Across the Globe, Ancient Runes, or Illusions.  Myself, I'd choose Divination.  Professor Fierston might be close to retirement, but he is one of the best Divination professors this school has ever had."

            Li nodded.  "Can I think about it?"

            "Take as long as you'd like.  This is hardly an easy decision.  Don't feel you need to rush."  Dumbledore sat back in his chair, closing his eyes, and – to all appearances – just went to sleep.

            Lianne looked back down at the list.  Wizardry Across the Globe sounded dull.  Apparently, you didn't get to actually _learn other countries' ways of doing magic, as the name implied.  All you did was __study them.  As for Illusions… well, maybe.  But she hadn't the faintest idea what that class would be like, even though it said "creating shapes of light" and "images in the air."  At least with Divination she'd be on firmer ground…_

            _But do I honestly want to know about the future?  Lianne stared unseeingly at the words.  She had trouble dealing with things that had already happened.  She hardly needed the burden of things that hadn't come yet._

            She sighed, shaking her head.  She was drawing this out unnecessarily.  She knew what she was going to pick.

            "Er… Professor?"  Lianne waited until Dumbledore opened one eye, smiling at her.  "I've decided."

            "I can't believe we've been at this school for over four years, and we don't know where the Hufflepuff Common Room is," Sirius grumbled.  "Everyone knows the Ravenclaws are by the Astronomy Tower, and we found the Slytherin dungeons our first year, but Hufflepuff?  Nothing!"

            "Why can't we just _ask a Hufflepuff?" Peter asked, trudging along after the other three._

            "And they'll just up and tell us?" Sirius scoffed.  "That would be stupid.  No, we need to use cunning.  We need guile.  We need trickery."

            "We needed a left turn back at the painting of the ballerina," Remus interrupted, squinting at their map.  "I think.  All these stupid hallways keep moving, I never know when a map's gone wrong."

            "So someday we'll make an accurate one," James said, shrugging.  "In the meantime, let's – "

            "Say, what are you lot doing here?"  A plump girl coming around a corner had nearly bumped into them, and was now giving them a very suspicious look.  "I know you aren't Hufflepuffs – you're those trouble-making Gryffindors Sprout's always going on about."

            "Who, us?"  Sirius attempted to look innocent.

            "You _are!" the girl insisted.  "You blew up a whole greenhouse!"_

            James scowled.  That one had actually been accidental, and mostly his fault.  How was he supposed to know those Bubotuber thingies were flammable?  "It was only one corner," he informed her.  "And the windows hardly sizzle at all anymore."

            "Huh."  She didn't seem to believe him.  "Well?  What do you want?"

            The Marauders looked at each other.  "Where's your Common Room?" Remus asked hopefully.

            She snorted softly.  "Hardly going to tell you, am I?  What do you want to go there for?"

            "I – we – want to talk to the new girl," Sirius said, apparently throwing caution to the winds.  "Lianne."

            "So you can corrupt her, too, I suppose," the Hufflepuff grumbled.  "Stay put, then.  I'll go and fetch her."

            She walked off, glancing back suspiciously at them several times, to make sure they actually did stay where they were.

            "I can't believe that actually worked," James said in mild amazement.

            "She probably just didn't want us knowing where her Common Room is," Remus said, grinning.  "In case we run out of greenhouses."

            James glared at him.  "You're never going to let me forget about that, are you?"

            "Nope."

            "All right, then."  They looked up, to see the girl approaching briskly.  Lianne was following somewhat more slowly, apparently having gotten distracted by the paintings.  Muggle-borns always were fascinated by them.  "Here she is, and if you turn her into anything, I'll tell Professor Sprout on you!"

            "Thanks, Ellie," Lianne said absently as the girl stalked off.  She still wasn't looking away from one of the pictures, and the young girl in it appeared to love the admiration.

            Sirius, on the other hand, was staring at _her.  "Um… Lianne?"_

            That got her attention.  She spun so fast her wand flew out of her hair and banged into a wall, setting off a shower of sparks.  Everyone yelped and jumped back, and the painting girl fled to a safer landscape.

            Li stooped to pick her wand up with a sigh.  "Only me, I suppose."  She looked back at Sirius.  "So… you got my picture?"  Her voice sounded a little too high to be natural, and she was standing very formally, with her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

            "Yes, and I really like it."  Sirius grinned quickly.  "I don't think my nose is that big, though."

            "I just draw what I see," she said, shrugging innocently.  James grinned.  He had the feeling he was going to like her.

            Remus tugged at James's shoulder.  When he looked over, Remus jerked his head at an empty classroom nearby.  James nodded, and pulled Peter along as they went in.  Best to give the two some privacy.

            Besides, they could always use a Spying Spell.

            Sirius glanced after his friends.  "I suppose they think they're leaving us alone," he said wryly.  "In the middle of the hallway."

            "We're alone right now," Lianne pointed out.  She bit her lip nervously.  Did he _want to be alone with her?  True, he'd been alone with her plenty of times already – if he really was the one she'd been dreaming of.  If._

            He looked just like her Sirius, with the shoulder-length black hair, the big brown eyes.  He _looked like the boy she'd dreamt of.  But that didn't mean he was.  No matter how badly she wanted him to be._

            "Yeah."  He seemed to be discovering a new interest in the wall beside her.  "Look – Li – this is going to sound really stupid, but I've got to ask.  Have you been having any – any really _weird dreams lately?"_

            To her shock and dismay, Lianne found tears threatening to fill her eyes.  She blinked them back.  "Well, yes.  There was one just last night about a pink cat with rhinoceros horns – "

            "Not like that."  Sirius caught her hand in his.  "You have, haven't you?  You've been having dreams like mine."  He searched her eyes with his own.  "Lianne – ok, I know we've only just met, but – I feel like I've met you before."

            Lianne smiled.  "Once upon a dream.  Just like _Sleeping Beauty."_

            "Um… yeah."  Sirius frowned, anxiety in his eyes.

            "I know what you mean," Lianne hastened to tell him.  "Those crazy dreams.  Like I was here.  I made you pose for that picture."

            Sirius nodded, something lighting in his eyes.  "You said I'm the worst model you've ever worked with – "

            "The _only model," Lianne interrupted, grinning._

            "Right."  He nodded, matching her grin for grin.  "Li – I've missed you."

            She flung her arms around him.  "I've missed you, too," she said softly as he stiffened in shock.  "For longer than you know."

            "I can't _do this!"  Lianne flung down her quill, nearly crying in frustration.  She turned to Sirius pleadingly.  "Explain it once more.  __Why do I have to add the belladonna __before the newt tail?  Why does it __matter?"_

            Sirius shook his head tiredly.  He'd been trying to help Lianne with all her work for the past two months, but with that and his own work, and then that Animagi spell he, James, and Peter were trying as well, he wasn't sure he could manage anymore.  He was a good enough student, sure… but not much of a tutor.

            "If you add things in the wrong order, it's a different potion," he said, trying to think how else to explain it.  "Add the belladonna first, and it's Wart Remover – "

            "Yes, I _know!"  Lianne had circles under her eyes that were already nearly as dark as Remus's.  Sirius wasn't sure she was going to be able to take three years of this.  According to what she said, she wasn't even going to get Christmas off.  Personally, he didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have a break in two days.  He thought he might go mad._

            "I know," she repeated more softly, after some of the surrounding library-goers gave her nasty looks.  "But I've got to write six and a half more inches of this essay, and I haven't the faintest idea _why that's happening."_

            Sirius pulled her Potions book over, to see what she'd been looking at.  It wasn't at all helpful.  "I don't know, either," he confessed.  "My best subject's Transfiguration.  James is the potion brewer of the group."

            "Oh."  She nodded, retrieving her quill unhappily.  "I understand."  She turned back to the essay.  She didn't have to write as many as normal students did, but her essays were more heavily weighted.  She didn't dare take a zero on even one.

            Sirius sighed, standing up.  "Tell you what," he said.  "I think James should be done with Quidditch practice about now.  Work on something else, and I'll go find him."

            Gradually, all the Marauders began helping Lianne muddle through her work.  It sounded easy, as most of what she had to do was simply _understand – but when they realized how quickly she was being raced through concepts they'd been able to spend weeks on, they all revised their opinions of how difficult a time she was having._

            James had been happy to help with Lianne's potions work, and Remus had actually volunteered to explain Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Even Peter had pitched in with his best subject, Astronomy.  And she rather fortunately seemed to have a natural aptitude for her chosen elective, Study of Ancient Runes.

            Soon, the only thing she couldn't quite keep up with was Charms.

            "I just don't know how to explain it to her."  Sirius paced the Gryffindor Common Room, taking what he felt was a well-earned break from his own studying.  They had O.W.L.s coming up in just a few weeks, but when he'd started confusing Mandrakes and Manticores, he'd decided it was time to look at something other than a textbook.  What with trying to re-learn half his first year classes to help Li in addition to everything else, the words were blurring more than the time he'd tried on James's glasses.

            "Explain what?" James asked, chewing on a quill.

            "Charms class!"  Sirius waved his arms expansively.  "The theory behind creating an individual charm.  She can't get any further in there till she's got that down, and if Flitwick can't get it through her head, _I sure can't!"_

            "Who's good at Charms that you could ask?" Remus suggested, busily recopying a chart of the effects of different potions ingredients.  He insisted that he only learned things by writing them down, so he always ended up with three or four copies of all his notes.  "Maybe a Ravenclaw?  Or a Hufflepuff, since they're her House."

            "She's asked around Hufflepuff already," Sirius said, flopping into a chair morosely.  "That's how she got an Herbology helper.  None of the people who offered to help was good enough at Charms."

            "You know who's a really good Charms student?" Peter spoke up.  "Lily Evans."  He quailed under James's darkest glare.  "Well – she is!"

            "That's true."  Sirius nodded thoughtfully, scanning the Common Room.

            "Padfoot, you can't be seriously considering asking _her for help!" James exclaimed, scandalized.  "She – she's – "_

            "She's the best Charms student in our year," Sirius pointed out.  "And I don't want help for me.  I want it for Lianne."

            "_I think it's a great idea," Remus said, looking up.  "The only subject you're really qualified to tutor someone in is Transfiguration.  You do well enough __learning other subjects, but you shouldn't teach them.  Lily's really smart, I bet she'd be a lot of help."_

            "Fine."  James rolled his eyes, and went back his timeline of goblin rebellions.

            Sirius kept one eye on the portrait hole, waiting for Lily to enter.  When she did, he immediately got up and went over to her.  The group of girls she was with began giggling madly.

            "Lily, can I talk to you?" he asked, after grinning cheerfully at the other girls.

            "Why?"  Lily folded her arms.  "You've gotten my diary, I suppose now you want to find out if I've got any secret love letters?"

            "No, I want to ask you a question about Charms," Sirius told her, trying to be patient.

            "Ask Flitwick."  She started to walk away.

            "Lily, _please."_

            She stopped, then turned to face him, an odd expression on her face.  "Did you just say _please?"_

            Sirius nodded.  "Want me to say it again?"

            Lily shook her head, apparently in amazement.  "And here I thought none of you boys even knew what manners _were."_

            Sirius shrugged.  "Well, it took three years of special training, plus several knocks to the head from various female cousins, but I think I've got the concept down."

            Lily smiled reluctantly.  "All right, Black.  Ask."

            "Right."  Sirius ignored the increase in giggles from behind Lily.  "How would you feel about being a tutor?"

            She narrowed her eyes.  "You don't need tutoring."

            "No, but Lianne Treyvan does," Sirius replied.  "The new girl, that they're rushing through classes."

            "Your girlfriend?"  The corners of Lily's mouth twitched as Sirius tried and failed not to turn red.  "Yeah, I've seen her in the library, with about a thousand books.  She seems like a nice enough girl, even if she does have rather unfortunate romantic taste."

            Sirius decided to ignore that last comment.  "So you'll help her?"

            Lily sighed.  "I suppose.  Not that I need the extra work, with O.W.L.s and all.  But if _you four can manage, __I certainly can."_

            "I'll never make it."

            "Don't talk like that, Li, of course you will," Sirius assured her.  "The O.W.L.s aren't _that hard.  I mean, even Snape passed 'em!"_

            "Snape didn't have to race through his classes," Lianne retorted.  "Snape didn't have it sprung on him that, hey, you've got O.W.L.s in just one month!  Snape had five years to prepare!"

            "Calm down, Lianne," said Ellie, the Hufflepuff girl who'd glared at the Marauders the first time they'd tried to see Lianne.  "You know this stuff, right?"

            "Well, I'd _better, seeing as how tomorrow I've got a whole day of tests on it."  Lianne pushed back her hair with a sigh.  Her friends had finally managed to convince her that wands did not make good hair sticks, but that left her with hair falling in her eyes.  She thought it had gotten longer simply to spite her, in the year and a half she'd been at Hogwarts._

            _Why couldn't I have been a normal sixth year? she wondered, only slightly bitterly.  __Then I wouldn't have any tests but ordinary exams to worry about.  All her friends had said how relieved they were that there were no major tests this year, the break between O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.  If she'd been an ordinary sixth year, she'd've been joining them in relief, rather than frantically trying to memorize five years' worth of magic._

            "Look, Lianne, I know you can do this," Lily told her calmly.  "You've passed exams for first year to fourth year – "

            "Barely."

            " – and you're doing very well with fifth year material."  Lily ignored the mutter.  "Just keep trying this Interpretation Incantation, and you'll get it eventually."

            "Hah."  But Li picked up her wand and tried again anyway.  She'd pull this off if it was the last thing she did.  Though she found herself thinking that it seriously might be.

            _This time I know__ I'm going to fail.  Lianne kept her mouth shut, though.  She wasn't the only one taking N.E.W.T.s this year, she was just the least prepared.  They were all having a last study session – cramming session – before their exams tomorrow.  Lianne thought she might be sick._

            "Don't be worried, Li."

            She looked over at Sirius with a start.  He smiled at her encouragingly, if tiredly.  Remus and Lianne were now no longer the only ones with circles under their eyes.  Almost all the seventeen-year-olds in the school looked like they'd seriously messed up with some dark eyeshadow.

            "I'm not," she lied, trying to sound cheerful.  "I only need five out of twelve, right?  That isn't even half!"

            Honestly, she didn't know if she could manage _three out of twelve.  N.E.W.T.s were scored by one point for each of the seven required courses, one point for an elective, one point for a written test, and three for how well you could combine your knowledge in practical use.  Five out of twelve was the lowest possible passing score.  James and Sirius, who wanted to be Aurors, needed at least nine out of twelve.  Lily, who was hoping to be chosen as a professional Diviner by the Seers' Guild, had to have eleven.  Five wasn't so bad, really, when she thought about that… but it still felt like more than she could manage._

            Three days later, all the seventeen-year-olds were sitting at breakfast, desperately impatient for the mail to come.  Everyone was certain they'd be the only student in their year to fail.  James was paging through his History of Magic book, positive he'd confused the Dwarf Battles with the Goblin Rebellion of 1768, in which dwarves had been involved.  Lily's friend Anya was near hysterics, having only realized after the exams she'd transfigured a rabbit into a tea_pot, when it ought to have been a tea__cup._

            Lianne was sitting quietly at the Hufflepuff table, eyes half-shut, breathing deeply.  Sirius, who had come over to sit with her, had joked that she had to concentrate on breathing in case she forgot to and fainted from lack of air, but he'd let it go when she'd threatened to hex him cross-eyed.  She'd actually turned James's nose purple the day after her O.W.L.s, to Lily's unending amusement.

            At last, the owls came soaring rather cautiously in.  They knew what to expect when delivering exam results.  The hall went silent, except for the flapping of wings.  A tawny owl swooped down to Sirius, after puzzling over the Gryffindor table for a moment, and a school owl came to Lianne.

            Li just held her letter, watching as Sirius tore his open.  "All _right!" he exclaimed, reading the first line.  "Li – I've got __eleven!"  He looked over at her.  "What did – you haven't even opened it yet?"_

            "I'm scared."  She thrust the envelope at him.  "You do it for me."

            "They're your scores, you do it."  Sirius pushed it back, as nervous as she was.

            Lily and the other Marauders came running over, fighting through the crowds of seventh years racing about to tell their friends their scores.  "Sirius, Lianne, you'll never _guess!" James shouted gleefully.  "I – Lily and I – we've got __perfect scores!  Twelve out of twelve!"_

            "All right, Prongs!"  Sirius grinned.  "I got eleven," he added proudly.  "What about you two, Remus, Peter?"

            "Five," Peter said, sounding more relieved than anything.  "You know I botched the entire combination section?  I was afraid I wouldn't pass at all."

            "I got nine!"  Remus was thrilled.

            "Good for you, Moony, you can be an Auror with us, after all!"  Remus didn't look particularly pleased by Sirius's declaration, but he kept grinning anyway.

            "What about you, Lianne?"  Lily turned to her.  "Oh – you can't bear to look?"  She smiled more gently than usual.  "I had to open Anya's.  Want me to check yours, or do you think you can?"

            "You."  Lianne shoved the envelope to the Head Girl.  "Don't tell me unless it's good news."

            Lily slit the envelope with a fingernail, and pulled the letter out.  She scanned it, and broke into a grin.  "Lianne – _look!"_

            "I've just said I don't want to," Lianne protested, but Lily thrust the letter under her nose anyway.  "I – _oh."  She leaned back in her chair with a __thump._

            "Lianne?"  Sirius took her hand anxiously.  "What is it?"

            "Sirius – "  Lianne looked at him, eyes wide in amazement.  "I got a _seven."_

**Chapter 13**

_Where would we walk, where would we run_

_If we could stay all day in the sun?_

_Just you and me, and I could be_

_Part of your world._

            "I wish you hadn't decided to be an Auror."  Lianne hugged her knees to her chest, watching Sirius pace the main room of his apartment.

            "What would you have me do, sit back and watch while Voldemort conquers the entire _world?" Sirius snapped.  "You were Muggle-born – how would you like to see your friends slaughtered for no reason at all?"_

            "I'd hate it!" Lianne said indignantly.  "You know I would.  That wasn't what I said.  I just said I wish you didn't want to be an Auror.  It's horribly dangerous.  Ellie says half the people who come to the hospital she's training at are Aurors, and she's not even allowed to see the worst cases."

            "I can't not fight, Li," Sirius told her.  "You've got to understand that.  And besides," he grinned, "someone has to watch James's back."

            Lianne looked down.  It had been two years since they'd graduated Hogwarts, and she'd been getting steadily more nervous as her friends got older.  Even though she couldn't find copies of the Harry Potter books anywhere, no matter how many Muggle bookstores she asked in, she still remembered the most important events.  She hadn't really thought about it, at Hogwarts, but now… every time she saw Peter, she had to wonder.

            _I just can't believe that of him, Li thought, putting her chin in her hands as Sirius began pacing again.  __Peter's so nice.  Kind of stupid sometimes, and awfully scared, but I feel like that a lot, too.  Not all of us are as brave as Sirius and James.  And she'd seen Peter with his friends – he worshipped them.  He thought his Auror pals were the greatest people under the sun.  He wouldn't turn them over to You-Know – to Voldemort._

            She hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet.  She didn't even know if she should.  _How do you tell someone that you read a book years ago with all your friends as characters, and now you think one of them is a traitor?  It didn't make sense.  She didn't even understand it._

            Well, she had some time yet, before she _had to decide what to do.  James and Lily weren't even engaged yet._

            _And maybe they never will be.  Lianne considered the idea.  After all, who was to say that this had to follow the plot of the Potter books?  Maybe Lily and James would never get married, Harry would never be born, and Peter – he'd stay on this side.  Maybe._

            "I think it's wonderful that James finally proposed to Lily," Sirius said with a grin.  "I knew he would.  Remember how he couldn't stand her, when you arrived?"

            "Yeah."  Lianne stared down at her hands.  An engagement ring sparkled on her own finger, as well.  Sirius had asked her a few months ago, and she hadn't hesitated a moment in saying yes.  They were going to be married next year, after they turned twenty.  It would be a quiet wedding.  It had to be, now.  Big ceremonies tended to attract very unwelcome attention.  Especially when Aurors were involved.

            Sirius had chosen most of the guest list.  Lianne didn't have any friends that he wasn't also close to.  Of course, she had tried one last time to contact Erin, Autumn, and Hazel.  She'd given that up after her first summer as a witch, when they simply returned her letters, or ignored them.  But she'd hoped they'd care about her wedding.

            They hadn't.  The parakeet had returned, fluttering about the room in distress that it had no response from her friends.  Lianne supposed it might have something to do with her insistence on using birds other than owls – owls always bit her, for some reason – but her parakeet had never failed to deliver any other letters.  It wasn't a stupid bird, no matter what Sirius said about it.

            Lianne sometimes wondered what might have happened if she had gone home like she planned, after she finished witch school.  What would Autumn and the others say, then?  Probably not much.  They obviously didn't care about her as much as she'd thought.  That was why she'd stayed here.  Nothing was calling her back to America, while she had friends, here in Britain.  And of course, there was Sirius…

            "Li?  Aren't you pleased?"  Sirius looked at her, concerned.  "What's wrong?"

            "Oh, I'm very happy."  Lianne smiled quickly.  "Thrilled.  I was just thinking about something else."

            "Ah."  Sirius stood up.  "Well, I need to go, now, anyway, so you can keep thinking.  I expect you wouldn't have noticed if I'd walked out five minutes ago."

            "I would!" Lianne exclaimed indignantly.  "Where are you going?"

            "Hogwarts," Sirius told her.  "I need to talk to Dumbledore about – Auror business."

            Lianne sighed.  It wasn't precisely that Sirius wasn't _allowed to tell her about Auror business.  He was – some parts, anyway.  He just insisted she was safer not knowing all of it._

            "See you, then."  Lianne kissed him goodbye, before he Disapparated to a point close enough to get to Hogwarts from.

            _I still wish he wasn't an Auror.  Lianne shook her head.  No good going through that again.  It always made her feel like such a coward, to be an magical artist while Voldemort was at large.  __But I'm not good at fighting!  I'd be a lousy Auror.  Not even magically powerful – and James says my mind doesn't work properly.  Too trusting.  All she could do was art – and who'd ever heard of fighting evil by drawing?_

            "Harry's so cute, isn't he?" Sirius said besottedly as he and Lianne reentered their apartment.  Lily and James had just had a small celebration for their son's first birthday, and Sirius always loved seeing his godson.  But it just made Lianne nervous.

            "Yeah.  He's adorable."  Lianne sat down on the couch, and her husband flopped next to her.  She sometimes wondered if she was Harry's godmother.  She didn't think so.  The Potters hadn't mentioned anything about it.  As far as she knew, Sirius was godfather, and that was it.  Maybe the boy didn't have a godmother.

            Lianne twirled her wand between her fingers unhappily.  She hated thinking about Harry.  He really was a darling baby… but he was also an unpleasant reminder of what might happen in just a few months.

            She still didn't know what to do about what she knew – or didn't know.  She couldn't believe a thing like that of Peter.  She knew Sirius and James and the others never would.  She wanted to tell someone – but she didn't know who.  _Who'd believe me, anyway?  I never even took Divination.  How would I know about this?_

            "Ugh."  Sirius stood again.  Li looked at him questioningly.  "I need to go to Hogwarts."

            "What, again?"  She shook her head.  "No, never mind, I know it's important."  Inspiration struck.  "Say – can I come?"

            Sirius sighed.  "Li, I'm not telling Dumbledore Auror business in front of – "

            "No, _I want to talk to him," Lianne interrupted impatiently.  "It's got nothing to do with Auror stuff.  And I'll come anyway if you say no."_

            "I know."  Sirius shrugged.  "Fine with me.  Just don't listen in on us."

            "Well, Lianne, it's certainly been a while."  Dumbledore smiled at her, a bit bemused.  "Not since your wedding, I believe."

            "Yes."  Lianne nodded nervously.  "I – I need some advice.  Or something."

            "I see."  Dumbledore looked at her over the tops of his glasses.  "And you don't want your husband to hear?"

            Lianne had ordered him out before speaking, pretending it was in revenge for not letting her stay for his conversation, and he was to meet her at home.  "No.  Definitely not."  She took a deep breath.  "Professor – what would you do if you knew something – something _important that you just __knew no one would believe?"_

            "That depends on what it was I knew."  Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully.  "I assume this isn't purely hypothetical?"

            Lianne shook her head.  "No, sir."

            "And you don't want to tell me what it is you know?"

            "No.  Not yet."  Lianne brushed away her hair distractedly.  "Maybe later.  When I know for sure if you'll believe me."

            Dumbledore's expression deepened, eyes serious.  "Lianne, I assure you that, whatever you tell me, I will not doubt you."

            She shook her head again.  "Don't make any promises, sir.  Not yet.  You don't know what you're saying."

            "All right," Dumbledore agreed.  "Then tell me what you think I'll believe.  We'll see what I can do with that."

            "Right."  Lianne nodded.  "I – I know something.  It's pretty unlikely on its own, but the way I found out… people'd lock me up in a nut house if I said.  It's crazy.  And this thing I know… there's no other way I could've known it.  I can't just say it without proof.  And I haven't got any."

            "I think I understand," Dumbledore said as she paused.  "A bit, at least.  What you know – does it have anything to do with Voldemort?"

            Lianne started, then nodded.  "Yes.  Yes, sort of.  It's really complicated.  And the worst part is, I don't even know if _I believe it.  Like I said, I don't have any real proof.  But if it __is true, I can't just sit back and do nothing, I can't!"_

            "Of course not," Dumbledore said soothingly.  "You haven't done nothing.  You've come to me.  We'll solve this, Lianne.  Don't worry."

            _How can I not worry? Lianne thought, upset.  __I'm living out a book!_

            "But are you sure you don't want to tell me everything?" Dumbledore continued, concerned.  "I could help you more if I knew what was distressing you so much.  Can't you at least tell me part of it?"

            Lianne shook her head, more out of despair than anything.  "You'll say I'm crazy."

            "I told you I wouldn't," Dumbledore reminded her.  "I won't disbelieve you, Lianne.  You can tell me."

            She stared at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.  "I – all right.  Part of it.  It – it's about Lily and James.  They're in danger.  Voldemort – he wants to kill them."

            "I'm aware of that."  Dumbledore's voice was grave, and, though she couldn't see his eyes while she studied her hands, she was sure they matched his tone.  "I – that information has been given to me already, by a reliable source.  I would be very interested to know how you discovered it – but you needn't tell me, if you don't feel ready," he added quickly.

            "I don't."  Lianne swallowed against the threat of tears.  So Lily and James _were in danger.  It was all going the right way – the wrong way.  __It can't end like that.  It can't!  "I think I know who the traitor is!" she blurted._

            Dumbledore sat up very straight.  "Do you indeed?"

            Lianne shrunk down into herself, trying to disappear.  "No.  Yes.  I shouldn't have said it.  I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even brought it up.  I don't know.  I don't."

            "Lianne, are you _sure?"  Dumbledore grasped her shoulders, his eyes boring into hers.  "If you have any idea – even a guess – you must tell me.  For Lily and James's sake.  It isn't common knowledge that there's a traitor among their friends.  If you know that – Lianne, you've been right so far.  You may continue to be, you may not.  But any help you can give would at least put us on guard."_

            Lianne stared into his face desperately.  "I – I – oh, don't ask this of me!"  She yanked away.  "You don't understand!  It can't be like this!  It's not supposed to be like this!  It's just supposed to be a story!"

            "What is?" Dumbledore asked.

            "No!  I can't!"  Lianne's shoulders shook with the effort of holding back her tears.  "He wouldn't, he _wouldn't!  He'd never betray them, I know he'd never!  He's their – he's my – he's one of us!  He __has to be!"_

            "Lianne – Lianne, _listen to me!"  Dumbledore stood an instant after she did.  "Think how you'd feel if something happened to Lily and James because you did nothing.  People can be made to act against their wills – "_

            "Not if I'm right," Lianne cut him off softly.  "You don't know what it would mean, if everything goes that way."

            "You came because you trust me."  Dumbledore tried a different approach.  "Can't you trust me enough to tell me this?"

            "Maybe eventually."  Lianne backed away, shaking her head.  "Maybe.  If I can find proof.  But not yet.  I have to wait."

            "If you wait much longer, Lily and James will be _dead!" Dumbledore snapped._

            Lianne shuddered at the word.  "You have till October," she said finally.  "If you really think I'm right, nothing will happen till then.  But – I can't tell you more.  Not now."

            With that, she turned and fled.

            Dumbledore watched her go, an odd expression on his face.  "Perhaps I handled that badly," he murmured.

            He'd suspected from the time Lianne arrived at Hogwarts that she wasn't exactly what she appeared.  For one thing, the American government should have picked up her magic long before it had.  True, she wasn't a _powerful witch, but she certainly wasn't a Muggle._

            And then there was her lack of surprise at magic in general.  Most Muggle-borns took a while to completely accept Hogwarts.  Lianne had taken to the castle well, but it was more than that.  It was as though she _recognized it.  As though it tallied with something she knew already._

            He knew she had some sort of secret.  The signs were clear.  He'd hoped she confide it to him while she was a student, but she'd kept to herself.  _Maybe I should have simply asked__ her, while she was here at school.  She'd been less nervous then, almost eager.  Perhaps she hadn't realized then just how dark her secret was._

            _You have till October.  If you really think I'm right, nothing will happen till then._

            Dumbledore sighed.  He just prayed she was able to trust him soon.  Before it was too late.

            "Lianne."  Sirius entered their apartment, a strange look on his face.  "Lianne, Dumbledore gave me a message for you."

            Lianne looked up sharply.  "Really?  What?"

            "He said, 'it's October, are you ready?'"  Sirius frowned.  "Li, what does he mean?"

            Lianne shook her head.  "It's nothing, Sirius.  How are Lily and James?"

            Sirius shook his head.  "Not so good.  We've decided on a – a way to protect them, though.  We should manage it before the end of the month."

            "The Fidelius Charm," Lianne whispered, almost involuntarily.

            Sirius started.  "How did you – no, never mind, I don't want to know."  He sighed.  "I'm to be their Secret-Keeper."  He looked away.  "Li – I'll have to go into hiding.  I understand if you don't want to come – "

            "Don't be stupid," Lianne interrupted.  "What else would I do?"  She turned back to her current illustration, a watercolor of a phoenix and a unicorn for some new novel, _Ruby Tears.  "Look, I've got to finish this, then.  Apparently, I don't have too long."_

            "Hello, Lianne."  Dumbledore looked up from what he was writing at his desk.  "I'd hoped you'd come before this."

            "I didn't know if I'd come at all," she admitted.  "Professor – when are you doing the charm?"

            "In three days' time."  Dumbledore stood, when she didn't sit.  "You know Sirius is to be the Secret-Keeper?"

            Lianne nodded.  "Yes.  But – Professor, couldn't you do it?"

            "Me?"  Dumbledore was astonished.  "Whatever for?  Lily and James wanted Sirius, he's agreed to it, I don't see any problems."

            "It – it would make me happier."  Lianne sank down into one of Dumbledore's office chairs, hardly paying attention to her actions.  "Please, sir.  I'm scared."

            "We all are," Dumbledore agreed, coming to sit in the chair beside her.  "Lianne, are you ready to tell me – "

            "No."  She shook her head hard.  "No.  I can't.  But it will all be all right if you're the Secret-Keeper."

            "That's up to Lily and James," Dumbledore warned her.  "I can't tell you if they'll agree."

            "They'll have to," Lianne said firmly.  "It would be much safer.  No one would ever find them then."

            Dumbledore sighed.  "Well… if you don't want to tell me… I'll talk to them about it."

            "I don't see why you can't have Dumbledore do it," Lianne muttered as Sirius prepared to leave for the Potters' house.

            "Li, I've explained," Sirius said impatiently.  "He's old, and he's got a lot on his mind already.  It's not fair to add any more to his burden.  Don't you think I'll be a good Secret-Keeper?"

            "Yes.  I'm just worried."  She sighed.  "If you won't let Dumbledore, at least tell me you'll do it."

            "Who else would?" Sirius asked, bewildered.

            "I – I don't know."  Lianne lost courage.  "Just – make sure you do it, ok?  Promise me you'll keep them safe."

            Sirius smiled.  "Of course, Li.  You know I will."  He kissed her once more, then Disapparated.

            Lianne closed her eyes, breathing deeply.  "Well," she said to the empty air, "I've done what I could, then."

            "Sirius?"  Lianne woke up with a start on Halloween night.  The bed was empty beside her.  "Sirius!"

            She jumped up, not bothering to even grab her dressing gown as she ran out of the bedroom of their new apartment.  She couldn't find him anywhere.  Chills spread through her body.  _Oh, no… no… no, please no…_

            A piece of paper on the kitchen table caught her eye.  She snatched it up, scanning it frantically.  Her stomach plummeted.

Lianne – 

            I've gone out to check on something.  Don't worry.  Everything's fine.  This is just routine.  I'll be back soon.  Go back to bed.

I love you.

Sirius

            She shook her head helplessly.  _I should have told Dumbledore, she realized, tears burning trails down her face.  __It's all my fault._

            _Why didn't I do __something?_

            "Remus!" Lianne shouted again, more urgently, banging on his door.

            At last, he snatched it open, bleary-eyed and irritated.  "Li, it's the middle of the night, what are you _doing – "_

            "Shut up!"  She shoved past him into his apartment, ignoring his objections.  "Have you got any Floo Powder?  We never have."

            "Yes, but what does it matter?"  Remus didn't like to be reminded that he'd never been good at Apparating, but right then Lianne didn't care.  "Aren't you supposed to be in hiding?"

            "It's too late."  She conjured a fire in his fireplace while he fetched the Floo Powder.  "It doesn't matter anymore.  We're going to Hogwarts."

            "Why didn't you just go – hey, wait!"  Remus hurried after her, almost forgetting the powder in his haste.

            " – _quite sure?"  Dumbledore was holding one of Lianne's hands, looking horrified._

            "Of course I'm sure!" Lianne shouted.  "Would I have come here if I _wasn't sure?  Lily and James are __dead by now, and it's all my fault!"_

            "Lily and James – "  Remus went white.  "But – the Secret-Keeper – "

            "It didn't work."  Lianne shook her head.  "I should've warned you it wouldn't, I should've made you try something else."  She looked over at Dumbledore with a start.  "Harry – Professor, you've got to send Hagrid for him.  Hurry!"

            "Lianne," Dumbledore said gently, "Voldemort never leaves survivors.  If Lily and James really are dead, I'm afraid Harry – "

            "Do you trust me or don't you?" Lianne screamed.  "Send Hagrid this minute or I'll go to his cabin and do it myself!  This is _important, do you understand me?"_

            Remus's eyes widened as Dumbledore, after only an instant's hesitation, left his office at a full run.  He'd never heard anyone shout at the Headmaster that way.  "Lianne – why did you say – Lily and James – "

            "They're dead."  Lianne scanned the top of Dumbledore's fireplace, then found a can of Floo Powder.  "And I've got to hurry."  She left the office as quickly as she'd come.

            Remus wasted no time in following.  "That was stealing," he informed her.

            "I don't care."  She'd dragged an enormous magical encyclopedia off one of the shelves in her living room, and flung it on the table.  Paging through, she added, "Go home, Remus.  I have to find Peter."

            Remus stared.  "What for?"

            "Because," Lianne told him grimly, "he's going to be dead really soon."

            Sirius stood horrified in the ruins that had once been the Potters' hiding place.  _I don't believe it.  Peter betrayed them.  He fell to his knees, sobbing quietly._

            "Sirius?"  He looked up to see Hagrid approaching, clutching a strained-looking broomstick.  "What're yeh doin' here?  You shouldn' – the Muggle police – "

            "Hagrid – they're dead."  Sirius stood helplessly before the larger man.  "They're _dead.  I couldn't save them."_

            "'s ok, Sirius."  Hagrid put an arm around his shoulders while he cried.  "I know yeh did what yeh could."

            Something in Hagrid's other arm squealed.  Sirius looked up sharply.  "Harry!"

            "Yeah."  Hagrid smiled at the little boy.  "Beats me how the kid kept alive, but Dumbledore knew he would.  Now I've gotta take him to the Professor, though."

            "Wait!"  Sirius looked up pleadingly.  "I'm Harry's godfather – let me take care of him.  I couldn't protect Lily and James, but I can protect their son.  Please."

            Hagrid looked as though he would've liked to, but –  "I can't, Sirius.  I said I'd take him to Professor Dumbledore, an' tha's what I gotta do.  You can see him later on."

            "Right."  Sirius stared at the ground, a realization striking him.  _No.  No, I won't be able to.  I'll never see little Harry again._

            Everyone thought _he was the Secret-Keeper.  Everyone would think __he had done this – that __he had betrayed his best friends.  Peter would never have to pay for it._

            _Oh, yes, he will, Sirius thought grimly, his mind suddenly snapping into focus.  __I'll make__ him pay._

            "Take my bike, Hagrid," Sirius said suddenly.  "I – I won't need it anymore.  And that broom doesn't look like it can go much longer."

            "Well – thanks, Sirius."  Hagrid smiled.  "I'll get it back ter yeh as soon as I can."

            "Don't worry about it."  Sirius shrugged.  "Just keep Harry safe, ok?"

            "Sure thing."  Hagrid left his broom with Sirius, flying off with the motorcycle.

            Sirius allowed himself one last sigh.  _Time to get to it, then._

            There was a spell in one of the books he and Li had, some encyclopedia or other.  A spell to find someone.  In a distant, separated corner of his mind, Sirius was amazed at the clarity with which he recalled it.  Hurriedly, he performed the spell that, unbeknownst to him, Lianne was casting for the third time, after much cursing, miles away.

            An image appeared in his head.  A street.  A Muggle street.  _Thinks he's safe if there aren't magic folk about, I suppose.  Sirius couldn't care less about secrecy from Muggles.  He Apparated directly to the street Peter was hurrying along._

            "Peter!" Sirius bellowed, as Muggles screamed and dove away from him.  "Peter, how _dare you!"_

            On the other side of the street, Peter looked up.  An expression of panic crossed his face, just before he scrambled with the rest of the crowds to get away from the "madman."  _Oh, no.  No, you don't.  Sirius threw himself after the smaller man, fury lending him speed.  He shoved the Muggles out of his way, ducking past cars that screeched to a halt to avoid him._

            It wasn't much of a race.  Peter was short and out of shape, and had never been able to sustain a run long in any case.  But he had another plan.  He turned, fists clenched.

            "Lily and James, Sirius!" he wailed.  "Lily and James!  How _could you!"_

            "How could _I?"  Sirius roared, raising his wand.  But his words were lost in the deafening explosion that blew through the street.  By the time the dazzle spots from the accompanying flash of blinding light had cleared from his eyes, Peter was gone._

            Sirius stared at the spot his once-friend had stood, unable to believe it.  _Peter, he thought dazedly.  __Peter out-dueled me.  It was a tactic he himself had drummed into the little rat, when the Slytherins kept pounding on him – catch your opponent by surprise.  Attack where and when he least expects it._

            _Why the hell didn't I__ stay Secret-Keeper?  Even as Sirius thought it, other words floated up from his memory._

            _"Just – make sure you do it, ok?"  Lianne stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.  Sirius blinked, wondering what she was talking about.  Who else would be Secret-Keeper?  Why did she look so terrified?  This was it, Lily and James would be all right now.  "Promise me you'll keep them safe."_

            "She knew," he whispered, as the light dawned far too late.  "She knew he'd betray them."

            How Lianne had known, he hadn't the faintest idea.  But she'd tried to tell him.  She hadn't wanted to believe Peter could do something like this, but she'd tried to give hints.  And he'd ignored her.

            Sirius laughed suddenly.  _That was why she wanted Dumbledore to be Secret-Keeper so badly.  And here I thought she didn't trust me._

            As the Aurors began Apparating in around him, his laughter only increased in bitterness and volume.  _And now, I'm going to be blamed, and little Peter will get off free.  Oh, God, how ironic._

            They'd probably even think he murdered Peter.  He'd be punished for that, too, and he hadn't even had the satisfaction of seeing the rat die.  He laughed maniacally, not even able to be afraid of what had to be coming.  He'd see the terror soon enough, and the guilt – oh, the _guilt – that would come.  But now, all he could see was the damned, damned irony, the mockery fate had set on him.  All he could do was laugh, and laugh, at the great bitterness that really wasn't funny at all._

            "Sirius!"  Lianne raced down through the Muggle streets, hardly noticing the cold, though she still wore only a nightgown.  "Oh, God, oh, _please, God, don't let me be too late!"_

            "Miss!"  Someone grabbed her arm.  She recognized the uniform of an Auror incognito, and tried to yank away.  "Miss, you can't go there, there's been a gas fire – "

            "Shut the hell up!" Lianne snarled.  "There's been a curse, and my husband's out there, and I'll be damned – " she kicked him hard, " – if you're going to keep me from him!"  She bolted onward the second the Auror's grip relaxed in pain.

            She spotted him, and threw herself forward in the hopes of reaching him by sheer speed.  What she'd do about the Aurors holding him she didn't know, all she knew was that she had to get to him, had to get to him _now – _

            "Mrs. Black, please stay away."  Firm hands jolted her to a halt.  "Your husband is dangerous, he's just blown up the street – "

            "He _hasn't!"  Lianne twisted frantically, desperate to get to Sirius.  __He's so close, so close -   "It wasn't him, you've got to believe me!  He wasn't – he wouldn't – "_

            "Mrs. Black!"  The hands spun her around, and she found herself staring into the face of Bartemius Crouch.  If he wasn't holding her hands back, she'd've clawed him across the face.  "You really _must stay away!  If you don't, I shall have to magically restrain you."_

            Lianne went limp.  "All right," she whispered.

            "Thank you," he began, releasing her.

            She rushed forward again.  "Sirius!  Oh, God, no, don't let this happen!  Sirius, _look at me!"_

            She didn't think he could even hear her.  He was just standing there, as they tried to lead him away, not even putting up a fight.  Just standing there.  Laughing.  _Just like the book.  Lianne didn't notice her tears until they blurred her vision, and she tripped over something.  No – that was a spell, wasn't it?  Someone'd stopped her with a spell.  If it was Crouch, this time she really __would claw his eyes out._

            A hand reached down to help her up.  Lianne slapped it viciously away, jumping to her feet by herself, to face –  "Mad-Eye Moody?"

            The Auror frowned at her, eyeing her – with both eyes intact.  "Mad-Eye?  That what they call me now?"  He shook his head.  "Now, look, missy, wife or not, you can't go charging a Death Eater."

            "He _isn't a Death Eater!" Lianne wailed._

            Moody snorted.  "Wife's always the last to know, I suppose."

            "That's for cheating, not turning to the Dark Side!" Lianne shouted.  "He _hasn't gone Dark, I swear to you I'd __know if he had!  I'm his __wife, for God's sake!  How can you say __you know?  You don't even __know him!"_

            "He's blown up a whole street," Moody pointed out calmly.  "That's powerful Dark magic."

            "_It wasn't him!"_

            "Well, it sure wasn't one of these Muggles."  Moody shrugged.  "Not much point in trying to convince me now, though."

            Lianne stared at him.  "What do you mean?"

            "He's been sentenced already.  By _him."  Moody jerked a thumb at Crouch.  "Azkaban.  For life."  He caught Lianne around the waist when she tried to run off again.  "Uh-uh, missy.  It's tough, but that's what happens to Death Eaters. This street's no place for a girl in her nightdress. Go home to your mother."_

            "My mother's dead."  Lianne couldn't bear watching them drag her husband away, and shut her eyes.  Then, remembering that this might be her last sight of him for _years, she opened them again._

            But it was too late.  The Aurors on scene had moved to obscure her vision.

            He was gone.

**Chapter 14**

_I don't know when, I don't know how_

_But I know something's starting right now_

_Watch and you'll see, someday I'll be_

_Part of your world._

            "Thirteen years."  Lianne flung her purse down on the sofa angrily.  "Thirteen years I wait for him, and now he's been free a whole _year, and does he come to see me?"  She kicked her shoes off.  "No!"_

            She sat down on the couch beside her purse, propping her feet on the coffee table.  She supposed she ought to get up and make herself some dinner – but what was the point?  She didn't feel like eating.  She was too disappointed.

            Ever since last year, when Sirius had escaped Azkaban, she'd hoped he'd come find her.  Maybe.  Every time she came home from somewhere, her hopes would raise, no matter how much she told them not to.  And it was awful, to open the apartment door and not find him.

            One thing that made her happy was that she could now legitimately call her apartment an _apartment, rather than having everyone correct her that the term was __flat.  She'd moved back to America ten years ago, not having anything in particular to hold her in Britain.  She'd thought about going to France, simply because she'd never been there, but then she remembered she didn't speak French.  So America it was._

            She hadn't gone to Maryland again, though.  Too many memories there.  She lived in Florida now, and was quite happy with the complete lack of snow.

            A loud squawk interrupted her thoughts.  Lianne sighed.  "Time to feed the birds.  Ok," she called, "ok.  I'm coming."

            She made a point to pat each individual bird as she fed them.  She had six – two parakeets, two cockatoos, a macaw, and a toucan, of which the Muggle zoo would probably disapprove, if she'd bothered to tell them.  Well, the Muggles probably wouldn't like pet owls, either, and her birds served the same purpose as other witches' owls.

            Sounds of a scuffle in the hallway attracted Li's attention.  "I'll be right back," she told Dragonfly, the macaw, before peering outside curiously.

            Her stomach dropped.  The building's security guard was attempting to restrain a large black dog.  At the sight of her, the dog struggled even harder to get away.

            "Oh, no, you don't, mongrel!" Ryan, the guard, growled.  "I'm not letting you off on a rampage through a nice building like this!"

            "Ryan!" Lianne called, rushing into the hallway.  "Ryan, let him go!"

            "Sorry, Lianne," Ryan shouted back.  "But he's – "

            "He belongs to a friend of mine!" Li said desperately, as the dog yelped in pain when Ryan grabbed him too hard.  "Please, you're hurting him!"

            Looking as though it was against his better judgement, Ryan let the dog go.  He immediately bounded towards Lianne – then thought the better of jumping on her.  He hesitated, then sat docilely at her feet.

            "I'm sorry," Lianne apologized quickly.  "My friend – Remus – he was going to drop this guy off today, just for a little while, but I didn't realize Remus wouldn't bring him up himself."

            "It's ok, Lianne."  Ryan grinned.  "Just don't let him make too big a mess of the building.  And I hope he doesn't scare your birds."

            "He won't."  Lianne's smile was only barely polite, and quite chilly.  She hoped Ryan would take the hint and _go._

            He didn't.  "So how's your painting coming?"

            "Good."  _Maybe if I'm rude, he'll let me be._

            "That's nice."  He smiled.  "I wish you'd tell me what books you've illustrated, I'd be sure to buy them."

            Lianne stopped herself from rolling her eyes.  He didn't know that she illustrated wizard books.  He was just a Muggle, after all.  "Some other time, Ryan.  Aren't you on duty now?"

            "Oh, yeah."  He grinned a goodbye, then stopped.  "Say – join me for dinner some time?"

            Lianne just sighed and held up her left hand, pointing at the wedding ring.  She'd told him her husband was dead, but the ring had been a deterrent so far.

            Until now.  "Lianne, you said yourself it's been thirteen years," Ryan said gently.  "Don't you think it's time to move on?  Just dinner.  Think about it."  He glanced down at the dog, who was growling with narrowed eyes.  "Unfriendly mutt, isn't he?"

            "Maybe he just doesn't like you," Lianne suggested, very sweetly.  "Ryan, I really don't like the thought that anyone could be sneaking into the building while you're away.  I could be murdered in my bed!"

            "Right."  Ryan waved.  "Remember – think about it!"

            Lianne ignored him.  She went to the door of her apartment.  "In," she said to the dog.  She followed him, then made a point of turning her back to shut and lock the door.  _I'm going to feel awfully stupid if I'm wrong, she thought.  But she knew she wasn't._

            "Nice birds."

            Lianne turned, her breath catching in her throat.  "Oh – Sirius – it _is you!  I knew it!"  She flung herself into his arms.  
            "Li – " was all she gave him the chance to say, before pulling herself up to kiss him fiercely, with thirteen years of pent-up love.  She only pulled back when she realized his hair was nearly twice as long as hers, and that was only because she was startled._

            He took advantage of the opportunity to speak.  "Lianne – I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

            "Don't talk," she scolded him.  "Sit."  She pushed him onto her sofa.  He winced as dirt from his robes got onto the white material, but she didn't care.  What did a couch matter when she had her husband back?  "You look half-starved, what can I feed you?"

            "Li!" Sirius objected.  "This isn't how our reuniting is supposed to go!"

            "I suppose you want me to let you wallow in guilt."  She shook her head.  "I can order pizza, but that'll take a while.  Do you want a pop-tart?"

            Sirius stared at her in disbelief.  "_No, I don't want pop-tart!  Lianne, __talk to me!"_

            "I am talking, haven't you been listening?"  Lianne opened the refrigerator.  "I've got some leftover spaghetti – no, wait, it's moldy.  Or did I use that weird sauce Remus likes?  Maybe it's _supposed to be that color."_

            Sirius began laughing.  Lianne turned around.  "What?"

            "You are deliberately preventing me from dwelling on the past, aren't you?" he asked, grinning.

            "Only partly."  She grinned back.  "I still say you need proper feeding."

            "That leaves your cooking out, then."  Sirius stood, going over to take her hands.  "Li – I really missed you."

            "I know."  She smiled, melting at his expression.  "I love you, Sirius."

            "I love you, too, Li."

            "Lianne?  Can these birds get all the way to England?"

            Lianne looked up.  "You want to write to Harry."

            Sirius started, then shook his head.  "Obvious, I suppose."

            She shrugged.  "Somewhat."  She glanced at her birdcages.  "Try Tinkerbell.  The toucan."

            "_Tinkerbell?"  Sirius blinked.  "I don't want to know."  He looked around.  "Um… can I borrow some paper?  And a quill?"_

            "There's writing paper… um… in the third drawer of my desk."  She pointed.  "And don't take one of my good drawing pens to write with.  Look in the center drawer.  You can use any of those."

            "Right."  Sirius sat down to start his letter.

            "Oh, no."  Sirius looked over at Lianne, his face pale.  "Li – Harry – "

            "His scar's hurting, isn't it?"  Lianne looked down sadly.  "All right.  I understand.  You need to go be with him now."

            "Li – you know I'd stay if it weren't important," Sirius told her earnestly.  "I'll come back here as soon as I can.  You'll never even miss me."

            "Miss you?"  Lianne raised her eyebrows.  "I'm sure I won't.  I'm _coming."_

            Sirius stared.  "You can't come.  You've got a job here."

            "I haven't," she countered.  "I'm technically a free-lancer, but most of the work I do is for British publishers, and their British authors.  That series I was working on, before – before you left, it hit it big, over in England.  And they've decided they really like my work, so they keep hiring me back to do more illustrations.  They'd be thrilled if I moved back to Britain, even if it's only for a little while."

            "But – you have friends here," Sirius objected.

            "Some," Lianne agreed.  "But no one it would bother me much to lose touch with.  Ryan's the only one who'd really care, and he'll find someone else to chase after soon enough."

            "It's too dangerous!"

            Lianne glared at him.  "If I used that argument on you, you'd _laugh at me."  She sighed.  "Look, how about this.  I'll stay with – with Remus, or someone, and just come visit you, wherever you decide to stay?"_

            "No.  If Voldemort really is back - I won't put you in danger," Sirius said stubbornly.

            "What do you call staying here with me, then?" Lianne demanded.  "I've waited thirteen years for you to come back to me, I'm _not letting you go anywhere without me, not ever again!"_

            Sirius stared at her, then shook his head.  "I can't believe you aren't scared."

            "Oh, I am," she assured him.  "But – scary with you is better than scary without you."

            "Lianne?  What are you doing here?"  Remus's jaw dropped.  "Why didn't you _tell me you were coming back to England?"_

            "It was a kind of spur-of-the-moment thing."  She shrugged.  "Can I stay with you for a little while?  Just till I find a place to rent for about a year."

            "I – I guess so."  Remus held the door open wider, letting her in.  "Li – Dumbledore said he was – sending someone to you – "

            "Yes."  Lianne nodded.  "Sirius.  He's on his way through Scotland, as far as I know.  He won't let me contact him till he gets to Hogsmeade."

            "He's going to _Hogsmeade?"  Remus gaped.  "That's dangerous!"_

            "Yes, I know."  Lianne sighed.  "But he wants to be near Harry, and… well, that's probably for the best.  Poor kid's going to need – "  She stopped quickly.  _No, that hasn't happened yet, has it?_

            "Need…?" Remus prompted curiously.

            "Help," Lianne finished lamely.  "With… stuff."

            Remus gave her an odd look, but didn't question it.  _Nice for me, Li thought.  __I'd really hate to have to give him answers._

            "The Tri-Wizard Tournament," Sirius snarled, kicking at the floor of the cave Dumbledore had suggested for him.  "Of all the bloody things that could've happened, it had to be _this!  Do you remember the __death rates?"_

            "Yes."  Lianne drew her legs up against her chest.  "I suppose there's no use in me saying how it's supposed to be safer?"

            "No."  Sirius reached over to pat Buckbeak.  The hippogriff snorted, having only recently forgiven Sirius for making him stay invisible the entire time they were in Florida.  "I wish I had some idea who could've entered him!"

            Lianne hesitated.  _Well… it's worth a shot.  "Isn't there a new professor at the school?" she suggested.  "Could it be him?"_

            Sirius gave her a look of disbelief.  "The new professor is _Moody.  The __Auror."_

            "It could be," Lianne insisted.  She threw caution to the winds.  "Someone could've used Polyjuice Potion, so that everyone just _thinks it's him – "_

            "Look, Li, if you can't be serious, at least be _quiet."  Sirius scowled.  "I am not in a joking mood.  Besides, what would this unknown evil of yours have done with the __real Moody, huh?  No," he shook his head, "no, my money's on that Karkaroff guy.  A former Death Eater, remember?  He'd have it in for Harry for sure."  He sighed.  "Honestly, Li – Mad-Eye Moody?  Where do you get ideas like that, anyway?"_

            "Why can't I go with you?" Lianne demanded angrily, pacing alongside Sirius as he walked the cave over and again.  "It's the last task – anything could happen, and _you won't be able to do much as a dog!  And who knows what-all is in that bloody maze?"_

            Sirius froze.  "Maze?"

            Lianne stared at him in disbelief.  "Obviously.  The maze Harry's got to get through, remember?  Third task?  Is this ringing a bell at all for you?"

            "But… I never told you it was a maze…" Sirius said slowly.  Suspicion darkened his eyes.  "Li – you know something about this."

            "Well – yes," Lianne admitted reluctantly.  "But you wouldn't believe me."

            "I would!" Sirius said indignantly.

            She shook her head.  "You wouldn't.  I tried to tell you once, and you laughed at me.  No one would believe this until I could prove it, and the only way to prove it is if it happens.  When it happens."

            "Lianne, I swear I'll believe anything you say," Sirius told her, impatience showing in his eyes.  "You know I will.  Who can you trust, if you won't trust your own husband?"

            Lianne looked down.  "Promise?"

            "Promise."

            She took a deep breath.  "Crouch.  His son's the Death Eater at Hogwarts.  The cup in the center of the maze is a Portkey, and the Crouch kid's going to make sure Harry touches the cup first.  I – dammit, I can't even remember the details!  I finally tell someone, and I can't bloody remember half!"

            "Li, that is _more than enough."  Sirius looked grim.  "I've got to get to Hogwarts, and tell Dumbledore."  He blinked.  "Why didn't you tell him before this?  You could've __stopped – "_

            "I told you, I tried telling you before, and _you didn't believe a word of it – "_

            "When?" Sirius snapped.  "You've never mentioned a word of this before!"

            "Remember when I was talking about Moody?"  Lianne waited, but Sirius just looked blank.  "Guess not.  Anyway, you thought I was joking, so I figured that if my own husband didn't believe me, no one would."

            Sirius just shook his head.  "Never mind, Li, I've got to stop Harry touching that Portkey – "

            "_We've got to."_

            "You are not coming."

            "I am.  What, you think you can just march up to Dumbledore in full view of the Ministry's representatives and demand that the Tournament be interrupted?"

            "I – "  Sirius stopped.  "Ok, you have a point – but it will be dangerous – "

            "_My safety isn't the issue here."  Lianne breathed deeply.  __And there's still part I don't want to say.  Part I am praying won't come true._

            "Ms… Treyvan, is it?  I'm sure you have _excellent reasons for wanting this Tournament stopped," Fudge said patiently, while Lianne forcibly restrained herself from slapping him, "but it's simply not possible."_

            "I'd like to know how she got here in the first place," Snape added, narrowing his eyes at her.  He hadn't liked Lianne ever since he'd discovered she was in love with his school rival back in his fifth year, and her marrying Sirius had done nothing to redeem her in his eyes.  "The grounds were _supposed to be closed off."_

            "That's none of your business!" Lianne snapped, as snootily as she could.  "It concerns Dumbledore.  I am going to speak with him.  _Now."_

            "Dumbledore's busy."  Fudge moved to block her way.  "I'm afraid he hasn't time to see just anyone."

            "He'll see me," Lianne said decidedly.  "And if you don't get out of my way, Minister, I shall – I shall – "  Inspiration did not choose that moment to strike.  "I shall be very upset," she finished, after an awkward pause.

            "The Headmaster has more than enough to deal with," Snape sneered.  "What with that horrible black mongrel trying to attack him – "

            "He's _not a mongrel!" Li gasped in outrage._

            "Is he yours?" Fudge asked in surprise.  "You really should keep him on a leash, or something of the sort."

            "And bathe him," Snape muttered.

            _That's it, Lianne thought angrily.  __Screw distraction.  If Sirius can't get there by now, it's his own fault.  She did what she'd been itching to do for the past five minutes – _

            _Crack!_

            Fudge's face turned sharply at the blow of her hand.  Lianne took off for the Quidditch field, some sort of curse she didn't really want to think too hard about barely missing the top of her head.

            She got there just in time to see Dumbledore returning from where he appeared to have been conversing with thin air behind the stands.  A large black dog that admittedly did need a bath followed anxiously.  The Headmaster made a sharp turn away from the maze when he saw Lianne.

            "A Portkey?" he whispered softly, barely speaking.

            Lianne swallowed hard.  "Yessir.  To a graveyard."  The dog gave a tiny yip of surprise.  "I'll explain later, sir, just stop anyone touching that cup!"

            Lianne knelt beside the dog.  "It'll be ok," she whispered, to both Sirius and herself.  "He'll stop things.  He'll make it better.  No one will have to die.  It'll be ok."

            "Lianne."  She looked up at Dumbledore's deeply troubled face.  "Sirius – Lianne – they've touched the cup.  Cedric and Harry both.  They're no longer in the maze.  I don't know how long ago it was – but they're gone now."

            Lianne caught her breath.  "Cedric – that's right.  I'd forgotten."  She looked down.  _I thought it was stupid, she remembered suddenly.  __I didn't see why anyone cared about him.  I thought his death was a joke__.  "Oh, God, another death on my conscience."_

            "What do you mean?"  Dumbledore stared into her eyes, not allowing her to glance away, even for a moment.  "Lianne, I think that now is the time to explain."

            "Right."  She bit her lip, looking into those not-so-twinkly blue eyes.  "Voldemort's coming back.  I can't remember any details – I couldn't find the books _anywhere, and believe me, I looked.  And by the time I thought to write it down, I'd forgotten a lot.  But not the important parts."  She suddenly focused on Dumbledore, rather than the past.  "Professor!  You have a traitor on your staff!  It's – "_

            "Professor!  Something's happening!" someone – a Weasley boy? – yelled.

            "The Portkey!"  Dumbledore looked back at them.  "Wait in the pumpkin patch by Hagrid's hut."  He ran off.

            Lianne looked at Sirius.  "Go.  I've still got to warn him."  She shoved him in the right direction, but found him trotting at her heels as she darted towards the commotion.

            Harry – it had to be Harry, she hadn't seen him in years, but he looked just like James – Harry was on the ground blinking dazedly, and another boy lay crumpled beside him.  _Cedric.  The third one I failed.  But Lianne didn't have time to think about that._

            A man lifted Harry and started to carry him off.  A man who she'd've sworn was Mad-Eye Moody, except she knew he wasn't.  Li put on another burst of speed, wishing she was in better shape.

            "Dumbledore!"  She grabbed his shoulder and jerked him towards her.  "Moody – that's not him – Polyjuice – he's got Harry – "  That was all she got a chance to say, before the Headmaster, as well as McGonagall and Snape, took off for the castle at a dead run.

            "What I want to know is," Dumbledore leveled his gaze at Lianne, "how did you find out about all this?  The whole story.  Now."

            Sirius nodded.  "I think we have a right to know.  It can't be as ridiculous as you keep saying."

            "It can and it is," Lianne insisted.  "All right, then – listen.  I read these books that told all this stuff.  As a story."

            "You mean – an enchanted book?"  Dumbledore frowned.

            "No, a Muggle book," Lianne said.  "Books.  Whatever.  They told Harry's story.  You were both in it."

            "Weren't you?" Sirius asked.

            "I'm not a part of Harry's life," Lianne pointed out.  "Anyway, I haven't been able to find a copy of any of them since.  But I remembered about Lily and James, and Peter, and – and about this Tournament."

            "And Voldemort's second rising?"  Dumbledore leaned forward.  "Lianne – how did these books end?"

            "I don't know."  She shook her head miserably.  "I only read the first four."  She blinked.  "Hey – wait – you believe me!"

            "Of course we believe you," Sirius said impatiently.  "You're telling the truth, right?"

            "Well, I suppose since it's already been proved…"  Lianne shrugged.  "You wouldn't've acted this way if I'd told you this a few months ago."

            Sirius turned a little red.  Dumbledore sighed.  "I would have, Lianne.  You know that.  I wish you could have found it in your heart to trust me."

            "Yeah."  Lianne, too, sighed.  "So do I."

            "Lianne – God, Li, _warn me before you do that!"  Remus scrambled to his feet.  He'd fallen off the couch in surprise when she'd Apparated into his living room.  "You're getting as bad as Sirius was!"_

            "Sorry.  I was kind of in a hurry."  Lianne grimaced.  "Look, Remus, you got that letter, right?"

            "Letter?  What letter?"  Remus glanced down reflexively at the papers he'd dropped, then scooped them up hurriedly.

            "From Dumbledore?  About the Tournament and all?"  Lianne waited for recognition to dawn.  "Yeah, that letter.  Anyway, there's an Auror meeting in a week – no, not Monday night, before you ask – and you're supposed to be there."

            "But – I'm not an Auror," Remus objected.

            "Neither am I, but I'd like to see them try keeping me away."  Lianne laughed.  "They need an errand-runner, after all.  And you have to admit, I can move around a lot easier than Sirius can.  My publishers think I'm taking a year to do all the European sightseeing I never got around to before, so I've even got a ready-made excuse if anyone gets suspicious."

            Remus nodded.  "I can't run errands," he warned her.

            "I know."  She shrugged.  "Dumbledore wants you there, though, so you must be good for something."

            Remus sighed.  "Ha, ha, Li.  So where and when do I report?"

            "Friday at seven in the morning," she told him, grinning when he groaned at the early hour.  "And it's at Dumbledore's house, actually.  In Ireland."

            "Dumbledore's Irish?"  Remus raised his eyebrows.

            "Apparently.  Part, anyway.  Sirius made leprechaun jokes for a week after he found out."  Lianne smiled.  "Well, I've got directions here… somewhere…"  She began rummaging through her purse.  Remus flipped idly through his papers until she found a flattened roll of parchment.  "Aha!  Anyway, directions to Dumbledore's house."  She handed it over.

            "Thanks."  Remus accepted it.  "Look, do you want to sit down, or have some tea, or something?  Apparating's pretty tiring, if you don't have much power to start with."

            "Well – yes, actually.  Some tea would be great.  Thanks."  Lianne grinned.

            Remus led the way to the kitchen, and pointed his wand at the kettle to start it boiling.  "So."  Li sat at the table, across from Remus.  "How've you been?"

            "Oh – all right."  Remus shrugged.  "I've got a Muggle job.  In a bookstore."

            "That's good."  Lianne nodded.  "Any pretty girls work there?" she added teasingly.

            "A few."  His ears turned pink, and he became very interested in how the boiling water was coming.

            Lianne grinned.  "A_ha!  Someone special?"_

            "Kind of."  Remus turned around, frowning.  "Li, can I ask you something?"

            "Sure."  She leaned her chin on her hand.  "What?"

            "Well… it's a really long story…" Remus began, "but I've been getting these really _weird letters…"_

Author's Note:  Finally.  Wow, that is the single longest part of _anything I've ever written.  Thirty-seven pages.  Ayy.  Anyway, I would like to apologize for the horrible delay, but by now you can probably see what caused it.  I'm praying the next part will go quicker.  It has more places to be divided, anyway.  We'll be going back to Erin, Hazel, and Autumn for a while.  Oh, and if anyone knows any other songs that fit the general theme of this story, please let me know.  I'm definitely running out.  And on that note, this song was "Part of Your World" from __The Little Mermaid, and it belongs to Disney, not to me.  I also have a Tamora Pierce quote ("scary with you is better than scary without you") and this site doesn't like it when you don't mention that.  Anything else that isn't mine, it belongs to the various authors/creators/whatever.  And thank you to everyone who put up with the long wait for this.  I'm really sorry.  The next part will be up sometime after chapter 2 of Lightning Strikes.  Zhai'helleva!_

Love,

Mysti


	9. Turning Point

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  I would really like to apologize for the delays on this story (again).  I have had just about every imaginable setback.  I'll rant about them in my author profile, so don't worry, you needn't read them unless you're curious.  And also, a million thanks to Calbee, for suggesting song lyrics.  Expect to see some of those shortly.  I'd also like to apologize for sounding kind of pitiful, but I would never have started this pattern if I'd known this would be more than the intended eight parts, and now I'd feel stupid just stopping with the songs.  So, without further ado, Erin, Hazel, and Autumn, as promised.

**_Part 8 – Turning Point_**

**Chapter 15**

_Past the point of no return_

_No backward glances – _

_Our games of make believe are at an end._

_Past all thought of "if" or "when"_

_No use resisting_

_Abandon thought and let the dream descend._

            "Things like this do not happen.  They do not."  Erin glared at the piece of paper on the table in front of her.  "I refuse to believe this is happening."

            "You still haven't explained just what it is you don't believe," Autumn said, with more than a touch of impatience.  "Can you hurry?  Three-way calling can get expensive, you know."

            "Some things are more important than your phone bill!" Erin snapped.  "Like our sanity, for example."

            "Yes, but the key point here is that I won't be grounded for a month if our sanity skyrockets," Autumn countered.

            "Besides, there won't be much of our sanity _left if you keep worrying us this way," Hazel pointed out.  "Erin, what __is it?"_

            Erin sighed.  "Well… you know this letters I've been getting?"

            "From the guy who says he's Remus?  What's he got to do with Li?" Autumn demanded.

            "He was talking about her in his letters."  Erin paused.  "I think it was her.  A girl named 'Lianne,' anyway.  He says," she found her most recent letter, "'I can't explain anything that's been going on, but I have a friend who might be able to.  She's had some rather odd experiences herself.  I'll ask _Lianne the next time I see her.'"_

            "Coincidence," Autumn said promptly.  But not with quite as much confidence as she might have done a week ago.  "Unless – you don't think Lianne's working _with that guy?"_

            "How do you explain her disappearing?" Hazel reminded her.  "She might've been able to manage the letters, if she had someone really professional helping – though I really don't think she actually _would – but the disappearance is a little too elaborate for some joke."_

            "Yeah, Lianne's not _that organized," Autumn agreed.  "So back to what I said at first – it's a coincidence.  Lianne isn't a particularly uncommon name.  Maybe he picked it at random.  Or maybe he knows you're one of Lianne's friends, and he's trying to confuse you.  There're all sorts of logical explanations."_

            "Yeah…"  Erin picked up another letter.  "There's more, though.  Listen.  'I don't think I know anyone named Erin, or Autumn or Hazel, for that matter.  I _do know a Li, but I rather doubt it's the same one.'  That's the first letter I ever got.  I thought it was a reference to Lily Evans at the time."_

            "You know what Lianne would say right now, don't you?" Hazel said, a smile in her voice.  "She'd say that everything is exactly what it looks like."  She sighed.  "Wouldn't that be nice?  If her dreams all really did come true?"

            "You do know – " Autumn began.

            "Oh, yes, I suppose," Hazel said quickly.  "But – well, it's the only explanation I can come up with.  And… I do _wish it were true."_

            "Well, it's not," Erin said flatly, suddenly irritated with the turns the conversation was taking.  "And it's never going to be.  We don't have a magical land of fairies and unicorns and happily-ever-afters.  We have a friend who's disappeared with no explanation, and not even any record that she ever existed.  What we _don't have is a clue what to do now!"_

            "The police?" Hazel suggested.

            "Oh, sure," Autumn sneered.  "I can just see this.  'Hello, officer, how are you?  Our friend just disappeared the other day, and now everyone says she was never real in the first place.'  And then he throws us out on our ear, or, if we're not so lucky, arrests us for being high on something.  No, thank you, I think not."

            "Then what do _you think we should do?" Hazel wanted to know.  "The only way we can prove that Lianne __isn't just a figment of our extremely overactive imaginations is with those letters Erin has!"_

            "That's not proof," Autumn said derisively.  "It's only proof if he says it's our Lianne, and it probably isn't."

            "Probably," Erin repeated.  "You say probably.  I still think what I thought in the first place – it _is Li.  He got that letter into a room that was locked, with me inside the room the entire time.  Why __couldn't it be Lianne?"_

            "I suppose only he knows for sure," Hazel said.

            "Well, then do the obvious."  Autumn paused, but no one came in with, 'oh, of course, how silly of us.'  "_Ask him."_

            "He might lie," Erin pointed out.

            "Then we're no worse off than we were," Autumn retorted.  "And at least it's _doing something."_

            "Right."  Erin pulled a blank sheet of paper from her notebook.  "Dear Remus – "

            "What are you doing?" Autumn interrupted.

            "Writing a letter," Erin told her.  "You're the one who wanted me to."

            "You're going to write it _now?"_

            "I think that's a good idea," Hazel said.  "We can all write it.  Maybe if he really _does know something, seeing that we're really worried about her will make him want to tell us."_

            "_I want to know why we're addressing it 'Dear __Remus,'" Autumn said.  "I mean, it __isn't Remus.  Not really.  Just some wacko trying to mess with Erin's mind."_

            "How else am I supposed to start?" Erin asked, annoyed.  "'To whom it may concern?'  Or maybe, 'Dear sir or madam?'"

            "Just start it like you always do," Hazel said quickly.  "The opening isn't the issue here."

            "Fine," Autumn agreed.

            "'Dear Remus,' then," Erin said.  "My friends and I have a question for you…"

            "Absolutely, totally, and completely nuts," Autumn muttered, hanging up the phone.  "I'm starting to wish all I had to worry about was my next Pre-Calc test."

            The phone rang again.  She sighed.  "Hello – "

            "What do you want?"

            Autumn glowered at the receiver.  "Oh, not you again."  An idiot Draco-wanna-be was the last person she felt like dealing with.  "Can't you _please just leave me alone for a while?"_

            "Aw, is the Muggle under stress?"

            "You," Autumn said coldly, "have no idea."

            "Oh, believe me, I know _all about stress."  His voice sounded almost tired, just for an instant._

            "I suppose _your friends disappear all the time?" she snapped.  "I suppose seeing someone's existence wiped from the face of the earth is __normal for you?"_

            "I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about," the boy said impatiently, "and I don't think you do, either.  You're just being stupid to annoy me."

            "I am _not!" Autumn shouted.  "I will have you know that my friend Lianne is __missing, and no one believes me!  You're just some idiotic brainless prank-caller, how dare you call me stupid?"_

            There was silence on the other end of the line.  Autumn was beginning to think he'd hung up, when – 

            "Missing?  How can people disbelieve it if someone's _missing?  Pretty obvious, isn't it?"_

            "That – that's none of your business," Autumn said hastily.

            "Of course.  That's why you were screaming at me about it," he drawled, sounding rather uninterested in the whole business.

            "You provoked me!"

            "I'm a Slytherin.  We _excel at provoking people."_

            Autumn's eyes narrowed.  "You aren't."

            "Yes, we do, actually.  And you ought to say 'you _don't,' though American grammar – "_

            "You aren't a Slytherin, and don't you dare start insulting my grammar!"  Autumn's knuckles were white around the phone.  "I am sick of you calling me like this, and never saying anything friendly, or even remotely sympathetic, not even when my friend has gone _missing!  You don't know what this feels like, you don't know what Erin and Hazel and I are going through, and you have __no right to call me and pretend to be Draco Malfoy and try to make me cry when I'm already closer to it than I've been in __ages!"_

            He didn't shout back at her.  That startled her.  And she hadn't heard him hang up, either.  What was he doing, listening to her breathe?

            "I suppose you think you're being clever," she snarled, furious at his silence.  "Let's not talk and see how angry we can make Autumn.  Let's see how far we can push her before she breaks.  Let's see what happens when we drive her over the edge!"  He still didn't comment.  "Well?  Aren't you going to talk?  Don't you have some stupid smart remark to make?  Aren't you going to sneer and insult me and be nasty and evil?  _Well?"_

            He took a deep breath.  "I was going to say," he said quietly, "that I _do know what it feels like, to see people disappear."  He hung the phone up with a soft click._

            Autumn stared at the receiver, anger abruptly draining out of her.  She had the strangest feeling that she'd just done something really cruel.

            Hazel sat curled up on the stone floor of the Hogwarts classroom, tucking her feet under her.  She just wasn't in the mood to sit up straight and proper in one of the desks.  "I told you, Harry, you don't need to worry about it."

            "How can I not worry?" he demanded.  "I can't help it, not when you're this upset."

            She shook her head.  "You wouldn't understand."

            "I happen to understand quite a bit," Harry said indignantly.

            "That isn't what I meant."  Hazel sighed.  "_I don't understand.  It's really complicated."_

            "Hazel, _please."  Harry sat beside her.  "Talking about it will make you feel better.  And knowing what's making you so worried will make __me feel better."_

            She smiled a little.  "I suppose…  Well, if you're sure.  I have this friend, named Lianne.  And she's disappeared."

            "What – like kidnapped?" Harry asked, eyes widening in alarm.

            "I don't know," Hazel told him.  "That's what's so horrible about it.  Erin, Autumn, and I are the only ones who know.  We've tried telling people, but they just insist she never existed in the first place."

            "Huh."  Harry bit his lip thoughtfully.  "Sounds almost like some sort of Memory Charm."

            Hazel smiled.  "I doubt it.  If we bring up magic, people will think we're even crazier than they already do."

            "What – "  Harry stared at her.  "Are you a Muggle?"

            "Well – yes, I suppose I am."  Admitting it made her feel sadder than she had already.  "I'd much rather be a witch, of course, but so would any Muggle."

            A shadow crossed Harry's face.  "Not some."  He shook his head.  "Anyway, that definitely sounds like magic, with your friend.  I'm not sure what it could be, but I'll ask my friend Hermione – oh – "  He stopped.

            "What?"  Hazel frowned.  "Is something wrong?"

            "Well… asking Hermione things right now probably isn't a good idea."  Harry sighed.  "She's not too happy with me at the moment."

            "I'm sorry," Hazel told him.  "I'd help if I could."

            "I know."  Harry grinned.  "Though your presence would probably only make things worse."  Hazel blinked.  "Never mind.  Anyway, I'll see if I can come up with anything on my own.  What's her name again?"

            "Lianne," Hazel told him.  "Lianne Treyvan."

            "Treyvan?"  Harry frowned.  "You mean like – like the illustrator?"

            "What illustrator?" Hazel asked, confused.

            "There's… an illustrator for wizard books – oh, of course, you wouldn't have heard of her," Harry realized.  "Anyway, her name's L. R. Treyvan.  She did the pictures for some series about unicorns and phoenixes.  I think she painted one of the pictures in the school a few years ago.  They like to get any artists that used to be Hogwarts student to do pictures for the school."

            "Ah."  Hazel nodded.  "That's pretty weird.  Li always wanted to be an illustrator.  She'd've done anything to illustrate _wizard books."  She sighed.  "I miss her."_

            "I'm sorry."  Harry rested a hand gently on her arm.

            "I just wish we had some idea what to do," Hazel said in frustration.  "I mean, we don't even have a clue what happened, and now a lot of people think we're mental cases!  And right now, I don't have any reason to doubt that!"

            "You're not crazy," Harry told her firmly.

            "Oh, sure, a _dream tells me I'm not going loony?"  Hazel laughed a little.  "I've got to be losing it.  It's the stress.  I __told my mother I shouldn't take the IB program."_

            "IB?"  Harry frowned at her.

            "Muggle thing," she told him.  "School stuff.  It drives a lot of people crazy.  Me included."

            "Didn't I just say you _aren't crazy?" Harry demanded.  "Don't say that about yourself, Hazel!"_

            "Why shouldn't I?"  Hazel's eyes snapped angrily.  "I'm talking to an imaginary character from a book!  How can that not be insane?  What kind of person talks to book characters?  What kind of person dreams about them?  What kind of person falls in lo-"

            She stopped sharply, but Harry caught it anyway.  "Love?  Were you about to say _love?"_

            "No.  Don't be silly," Hazel said abruptly.  "I – "

            "Hazel."  He silenced her with a look.  "Please, just answer.  I – I have to know."

            She met his eyes, which was the biggest mistake she could have made.  Even behind the twin walls of glass, his eyes were pools of green so deep she almost believed she could just fall forward and drown in them forever.  Why had she dreamed of such eyes, so vividly, intensely green?

            "Hazel?"  He tilted his head, looking at her as his hair fell across his forehead.  Why was he asking her this?  Why did he want to know?  Couldn't he just leave it be?  "Please?"

            "I – "  Hazel bit her lip.  "I – "  She closed her eyes.  "It doesn't matter.  It's just a dream, anyway."

            "Yeah."  Harry's hand fell away from her arm.  "Sorry.  I shouldn't have pressured you like that.  We all say things we don't mean.  Believe me, I understand."

            "Yeah."  Hazel nodded.  "I guess you would."

**Chapter 16**

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn_

_Beyond the point of no return?_

            "And I don't know how I'm getting these letters, or what she's talking about, or _anything," Remus finished, frustrated.  "Do you have any ideas?"  He realized Lianne's face had gone white.  "Li?"_

            "This girl…" Lianne said distantly.  "Her name is Erin Conner, isn't it?"

            Remus stared.  "How in the world did you know that?"

            She didn't say anything, just kept gazing beyond the wall at something the rest of the world couldn't see.  Remus was struck by a sudden memory, from years and years ago – Sirius, when he'd thought he'd never see Lianne again.  He'd sat and stared past the wall, lost in another time and place.

            "Lianne?  Are you all right?" he asked again, getting worried.  Comparing Li to Sirius at that point in his life was not reassuring.

            "I'm thinking, that's all."  Her eyes focused on him again.  "Can I see one of her letters?"

            Remus silently passed one over.  Not the first, but an early one, where Erin was ranting at him, thinking him to be her fiancé.  Lianne scanned it, then set it gently on the table.

            "How long has this been going on?" she asked, her voice trembling a little.

            "Oh – a month?"  Remus shrugged.  "Around there.  Why?"

            "You're sure it hasn't been years and years, and you just didn't realize how the time was flying by?"

            "Lianne, what is it?"  Remus frowned in exasperated bewilderment.  "You're reacting more strongly than I am!"

            "Well… I guess I am.  But it's just such a shock."  Lianne shook her head.  "Not that you could get these letters, but – well, that it's Erin."

            "You know her?"  Remus's eyes lit up.

            "Well… I did."  Lianne's face was set in a troubled grimace.  "Before I met any of you."

            "Didn't you like her?" Remus asked, dismayed.

            "Oh, I did when I knew her," Lianne said dismissively.  "That's not the point."

            "And may I ask what is?"

            "Remus," Lianne looked up at him, "Erin wrote these letters back when I still knew her.  I _saw some of them.  She nearly had a heart attack the first time she got one."_

            Remus grasped her point almost immediately.  "But that was years ago.  I've only just been getting these now."

            "I know."  She looked at the letter again.  "But it _is Erin's letter.  I'd recognize it anywhere, even after twenty years."_

            "You don't think it's someone pretending?" Remus asked.

            "I don't see how it could be," Lianne replied slowly.  "I never told anyone about this.  And what would the point be, anyway?  You didn't even know who Erin was until I told you just now."

            "True."  Remus refrained from drumming his fingers on the table.  He'd thought Lianne would have more _answers for him, not more questions.  But she didn't even have a clue.  Asking her hadn't done any good._

            He had other things he wanted to ask her, too, questions she'd probably be able and willing to answer – but he didn't quite dare ask.  First and foremost in his mind was Erin herself.  What was she like?  Was she the way her letters seemed?  And – the question Remus dreaded most – what about her fiancé?

            "What?"  Lianne looked up.

            Remus blushed, realizing he'd spoken that last part aloud.  "Nothing.  Never mind."

            "Ok."  Lianne shrugged, her mind clearly elsewhere.  "Remus?"

            "Yes?"

            "Just out of curiosity… what made you bring Erin up right _now?"_

            Remus frowned.  "What do you mean?"

            "When I was talking about there being someone special in your life," Lianne explained.  She looked at him searchingly.  "Are you… in love with her?"

            Remus froze.  "Where would you get that idea?"

            "Just wondering."  Li kept her eyes on him.  "Remus?  I know I'm being horribly nosy, but I do have a reason for asking.  See… I think she's in love with you."

            "No."  Remus shook his head firmly.  "No.  You're not thinking straight, Li.  She said herself she's engaged – "

            "She what?"  Li looked down at the letter in front of her.  "You don't mean you believed her?"  She shook her head slowly.  "I'm really confused now."

            "_You're confused?" Remus asked incredulously._

            "Yup."  Lianne sighed.  "We thought these letters were just someone playing a nasty joke on Erin.  She made stuff up to make him feel guilty.  Now you're telling me it wasn't a joke at all?  It was all _real?"_

            "I guess," Remus said doubtfully.  "I'm not really telling you anything.  I don't know myself."

            "Yeah, I noticed."  Lianne shook her head again.  "I really wish Erin and the others had answered _my letters."_

            "What?"  Remus blinked.

            "Oh, I wrote to them for the first few months I was at Hogwarts," Lianne said with a shrug.  "Sirius knows about it.  They never answered, I was hurt, I gave up, I got over it.  I tried to find them once I got back to America, but I never could.  It was kind of depressing, really.  Like my old world just got totally cut off when I left for Hogwarts."

            "Oh."  Remus winced inwardly.  He was really making some stellar conversation today, wasn't he?  But he didn't know what else he _could say.  He'd never wondered about Lianne's life before he'd met her.  It had never occurred to him that she would have had other friends.  He'd known that something had happened to her family, of course, but he still didn't know exactly what.  It made him feel a little guilty.  Why hadn't he ever asked her about this before?_

            "But that's off topic," Lianne added.  "The point is, I don't know what Erin's like now.  But when she wrote those letters, she was very much in love with you."

            "She did say something like that," Remus admitted.  "In her first letter – the one that was – that I _thought was to her fiancé."_

            "Yeah."  Lianne nodded.  "You weren't meant to see it."

            "I could guess," he replied dryly.  "How could she love me?  She didn't even know me?"

            "I loved Sirius before I knew him," Lianne pointed out.

            "She had nutty dreams about me?" Remus asked warily.

            "Um… something along those lines."  He had the distinct impression she was avoiding the question, but she hurried along.  "So what about you?"

            "What about me what?" Remus asked.

            "Do you love her?"  Li gave him a look, as though it should have been obvious.

            "It's a little soon to be able to tell that, isn't it?" Remus pointed out.  "And shouldn't _she be the one I tell?"_

            "_Are you going to tell her?  When you write to her?" Lianne asked hopefully._

            "Oh, of course, I suppose in my place you would – "  Remus stopped.  "You probably _would, wouldn't you?  No, I'm not going to say anything of the sort to her."_

            "Oh."  Lianne sighed in disappointment.  "Well, tell her I said hello.  See what she says to that."

            "Why don't you tell her yourself?" Remus suggested.  "I have a letter I wrote to her earlier, you can add a note to it.  I'll go get it."  He got up.  "I'll be right back."

            Lianne watched Remus go, an odd expression on her face.  "And here I thought my life couldn't get any stranger."  She shook her head.

            A loud whistling attracted her attention, and she noticed the forgotten teakettle was boiling.  She looked at the stove it was sitting on, decided she didn't want to risk trying to guess the spell to shut it off, and tried to pick the kettle up with Remus's potholder.  After some scorched fingers and a moment's cursing at idiot wizards who thought _crocheted potholders would be a clever idea, she got the thing off the stove._

            _What's taking Remus so long? Li wondered, finding two mugs in a cupboard.  At least Remus was more organized than most men.  His cups were actually in cupboards, rather than in the sink waiting to be washed._

            Unfortunately, what Remus did _not have in his cupboard was tea bags.  And, having neither grown up British, nor taken Divination, Lianne hadn't the faintest idea how to brew tea leaves.  She was about to try crumbling part of one into one of the mugs to see what happened when Remus came back in, looking unsettled.  Li immediately lost interest in the tea leaves._

            "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

            "I – I'm afraid I don't have that letter I mentioned, anymore," Remus said, sounding rather stunned.  "I've gotten a reply."

            "Oh."  Lianne frowned.  "That's good, right?"

            "I guess."  Remus glanced down at the letter he held.  "Sort of.  Li, I don't think your friends forgot you, after all."

            "Really?"  Lianne raised her eyebrows.  "Erin mentions me?"

            "Not just _mentions."  Remus offered her the letter.  "It's all about you."_

            "What?"  Lianne frowned at him, then took the letter.  _Dear Remus, it began, just like the others._

Dear Remus,

            In some of your previous letters, you've mentioned a girl named Lianne.  I have a friend named Lianne, too… but she disappeared a few days ago.

            I think the Lianne you know might be the same one my other friends, Hazel and Autumn, and I are looking for.  Crazy as it may sound, I do have my reasons.  Her full name is Lianne Treyvan, if that helps identify her.

            Please, if this really is the same Lianne, write back and tell me.  Then have her call me, or something.  Autumn, Hazel, and I are very worried.

Sincerely,

Erin, Hazel, and Autumn

            Lianne took a deep, if somewhat shaky, breath.  "Well.  At least they noticed I'm not there anymore."

**Chapter 17**

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn._

_We've passed the point of no return._

            "What do you mean, you need my car?"  Erin stared at her mother indignantly.  "How am I supposed to get to school?"

            "You'll just have to take the bus," Mrs. Conner said, unperturbed.  "The school board pays for public school transportation, you can take advantage of it."

            "And how am I going to get to the bus stop?" Erin demanded.

            "Walk."  Her mother smiled sweetly.  "I'd get going, dear.  The bus will leave without you."

            Erin scowled, but she plunked her car keys on the counter in front of her mother.  _It isn't even as though she paid__ for the car, she thought angrily, grabbing her backpack from beside the door on her way out.  __I bought it myself.  All right, Grandma helped a little, but it's still my__ car.  It's not my__ fault Mom ran into someone's mailbox._

            At least she knew where the bus stop was.  She'd had to ride the school bus last year, before she'd gotten her own car.  It was within walking distance, though she'd have to hurry, considering the late start she'd gotten.

            She was in a particular hurry to get to school today, so didn't it figure she'd have to ride the excruciatingly long bus route?  She wanted to tell Hazel and Autumn that their letter to Remus was gone.  She hadn't gotten a reply yet, though, which was a little odd.  Usually her letters were immediately replaced by his.  It was kind of disappointing, really.  She'd gotten almost used to this mysterious penpal of hers.

            Erin was so deep in her thoughts as she walked that she didn't even notice when she took a wrong turn.  It only hit her when she reached where she'd thought the bus stop was… and realized it _wasn't.  She groaned.  __Curse it, now I am__ going to miss the bus.  Maybe if she hurried back home, she'd catch her mom in time to get a ride._

            Erin started back the way she'd come, but it only took her a few steps to realize that she had absolutely no idea where she was.  She stared around her, bemused.  _Just where did I walk to? she wondered.  __I didn't think I went that__ far._

            The nearby street sign wasn't any help.  She was on the corner of Mayberry and Brandybuck.  How nice that was for her.  She sighed.  _Maybe I'll see someone I can ask for directions._

            She tried her best to trace her steps, in the hopes of seeing something she recognized, or at least a friendly early-morning jogger who'd be willing to help her out.  Unfortunately, everyone appeared to be asleep, except for the occasional car whizzing by.  And no matter how far she walked, she didn't come across anything at all familiar.

            Erin was starting to get worried.  She wouldn't have believed it was possible to get lost this close to her own neighborhood, but apparently it was.  _Don't panic, she cautioned herself.  __If all else fails, I can ring someone's doorbell and ask__ where I am.  She wasn't quite that desperate yet, but it was comforting to know she had a last resort._

            She was about to turn to it in despair when she finally spotted an older woman jogging along the other side of the street.  Erin started to cross over – and jumped back with a curse.  "Where did that bloody car come from?" she gasped, staring after it as it sped away, horn blaring.

            "You all right, dear?" the woman on the other side of the street called.  She crossed over, somewhat more cautiously than Erin had.  "Close call you had there.  I've complained to the neighborhood organizational committee about those awful drivers, but they just won't listen."

            "He was driving on the left side of the road!" Erin said indignantly.  "I hope he gets pulled over!"

            The woman blinked, then nodded in realization.  "Ah, I see.  You're American.  Here on holidays?"

            "Excuse me?"  Erin stared at the woman blankly.  Her British accent explained why she made a point of calling Erin an American… but not the part about holidays.

            "Sometimes people here have family visit," the woman said cheerfully.  "Don't worry about it, the street side changing confuses all of you at first.  And the speed_ some people drive at doesn't help things, either."_

            "Ah."  Erin blinked, then gave a mental shrug.  "Well, I think I've gotten a bit lost, ma'am.  Could you tell me where I am, please?"

            "Oh, certainly."  She smiled at Erin.  "You're on the corner of Brandybuck – "

            "And Mayberry, I know," Erin interrupted.  "I'm just not sure where that is."

            "In the Poplar Coves," the woman replied.  "That's the neighborhood, dear," she added, when Erin didn't immediately understand.  "My, but you _are lost.  Where were you trying to get to?"_

            "My bus stop," Erin said slowly.  "Which isn't more than ten minutes' walk from my house.  And I _know there isn't a Poplar Coves neighborhood anywhere near me."_

            "What – "  The woman stopped.  "Oh, I _see.  You're only just eighteen, aren't you?  Just gotten your license?"_

            "Well… yes…"  Erin didn't see what that had to do with anything.

            "Oh, you poor thing!"  She looked quite a lot more sympathetic now.  "You think you're still in America, don't you?"

            "Yes?"  Erin had the feeling she was going to hear something really insane in a moment or so.

            "You've missed," the woman told her.  "By quite a lot.  You've hopped the ocean, in fact, which not many girls your age can manage.  Most of them get dropped on a beach somewhere."  She smiled reminiscently.  "I remember my first try at Apparating.  I ended up on a boat on its way across the Channel to France.  Scared the daylights out of me – I wasn't even aiming for the coast!"

            Erin stared.  "Apparating…?"

            "Of course, dear," the woman said.  "Even old witches like me still like to zip about.  Tell you what," she continued, "why don't you call up the Knight Bus, instead of trying to get back to America by yourself.  Ask them to take you to the Apparation Department at the Ministry building.  We've got people on call there all the time for people who've gotten themselves lost."

            By this time, Erin had decided she was talking to a lunatic.  A lunatic who'd read the Harry Potter books, perhaps, but still a madwoman.  "Thanks," she said, trying not to sound nervous.  "I'll do that."

            "Good."  The woman hung about, not taking the hint.  "Well, go on, dear."

            Erin hesitated, not sure what she was expected to – no, that wasn't right, she knew what the woman wanted her to do, she just didn't know how to _do it.  She didn't even have anything on her that __looked like a wand, so she couldn't fake calling the Bus.  __Maybe if I wait long enough, she'll get bored and go away._

            "Dear?"  The woman gave her a puzzled glance.  "Is something wrong?"

            Erin sighed.  "I can't call the Knight Bus – "

            She was about to explain that the Knight Bus _was not real when the woman interrupted.  "Don't you know how?" she asked in astonishment.  "Those Americans!  Imagine, a girl your age not being able to call the Knight Bus!"  She pulled a stick out of her pocket.  "Don't worry, dear, I'll do it."_

            Erin rolled her eyes.  This woman was worse than Lianne ever was.  At least Li didn't pester complete strangers about the Potter world.  Well… that _was how she'd met Autumn…_

            Her train of thought was rudely derailed as an enormous bus of the most outrageous purple imaginably screeched to a halt in front of them.  Erin froze.  "Oh, my Lord," she said softly.  "The Knight Bus.  The actual Knight Bus."

            A girl of about Erin's age hopped out, dressed in a uniform of the same horrendous violet as the bus.  "Hello, and welcome to the Knight Bus," she chirped.  "I'm Stacey Shunpike, I'll be your conductor this morning. Just stick out your wand hand, and climb on board, we can take you anywhere you want to go!"

            "I'll let you get settled, then," the woman said kindly.  "Take care, and good luck with your Apparating!"  She jogged off again.

            "Thanks!" Erin called after her.  She looked back at Stacey.  "Um… I'm Erin Conner…"

            "Hello!"  She smiled brightly.  "Were you trying to Apparate somewhere?  You're so lucky, _I haven't even passed my test yet.  Wasn't it difficult?"_

            "Uh… yeah."  Erin blinked.  "Am I really in England?"  She felt like an idiot for asking, but… well… if this was the Knight Bus, who was to say she _wasn't in England?_

            "Sure are!" Stacey said.  "Aren't you English?  You don't _sound English.  Are you Spanish?"_

            Erin paused, waiting for a laugh, but the girl appeared to be entirely in earnest.  "No, I'm American," she replied at last.  "And – I'm haven't got an wizard money – "

            "Oh, that's fine, no Americans do," Stacey interrupted.  "They simply _refuse to switch to the Galleon over there, can you believe it?  __I think it's just the silliest thing I've ever heard.  Imagine using __Muggle money!"_

            "Right…"  Erin nodded slowly.  "Anyway… so you can take me anywhere?"

            "That's what I said!"  Stacey paused, apparently having to shut down all other brain functions to remember her professional speech.  "The Knight Bus is available to witches and wizards all across the world, stopping at any place on land that you desire.  Just tell us where you want to go, and you'll be there!"

            "Thanks."  Erin hesitated, then went ahead and climbed on.  She was lost anyway, and… well… she just knew she had to follow this through.  She couldn't spend the rest of her life wondering what might have happened if she hadn't.  Maybe getting on a strange bus that an even stranger woman had called out of an empty street was a stupid thing to do… but she didn't really have a choice.  Not if she wanted to be able to live with herself afterwards.  "Do I have to decide where I want to go now?"

            "Nope!" Stacey told her.  "Just let me know when you've picked a place, and I'll tell the driver.  If you want hot chocolate, it's three extra Sickles – oh – "  She stopped.  "Well, I'll have to find someone who can switch Galleons into American money, but it costs more."

            "I'm fine like this," Erin assured her.  Stacey shrugged and showed her to a bed halfway down the bus.  Erin sat gingerly on it while the girl went back to the front of the bus.  Taking off her backpack, she looked around, trying not to stare.  It was just like in the book… exactly like the book.

            _How did I get here? she wondered in amazement.  __This doesn't happen.  It can't happen.  People don't get scooped up by magic buses unless they're TV characters with nutcase teachers.  She almost expected to see that woman with the red hair – what was her name?  Ms. Frizzy? – come walking by any minute._

            No.  No, she was just being silly.  This was a group of weird SCA people who were – who were obsessed with the Potter world.  Yes, that was it.  And that woman had been… a scout?  No, that didn't make sense, maybe she thought Erin was one of theirs.  Yes, that had to be it.  And they were going to some sort of medieval fair, or something.

            Or something.  The bus stopped with a BANG!

            "Dublin, for Ms. Rachel O'Floren!" Stacey shouted.  An elderly woman hurried to climb off the bus.

            Erin watched the woman leave through her window – and she disappeared in a blur.  They were going incredibly fast, much faster than they'd been a moment ago, jouncing along.  And the old woman was nowhere in sight.  _Oh, Lord.  Erin felt sick.  Mostly because of the driving, but partly from nerves, as well.  __This really is the Knight Bus, isn't it?  She swallowed hard.  So much for the SCA._

            _How can__ the Knight Bus be real, though? Erin wondered.  __And… if this is real… what else is?  On an impulse, she rummaged around in her backpack till she found her private notebook.  She pulled Remus's letters from it.  __What if?  She was almost afraid to think it.  But… __what if…_

            "Hi!"  Stacey bounced down on the bed beside Erin, startling her out of her thoughts.  "Decided where you want to go yet?"

            "Not yet."  Erin bit her lip.  She supposed she ought to go back home… but she'd never be able to look Lianne in the face again if they found her – no,_ when.  When they found her._

            "Aren't you silly!"  Stacey laughed.  Then she spotted Erin's letters.  "Ooh, are those from a secret admirer?"

            "I guess."  Erin wasn't quite sure how to explain who they were from… and anyway, she wasn't going to tell Stacey.

            "Oh, _wow!" Stacey squealed.  "I always wanted a secret admirer!  Are you going to visit him?"_

            Erin shook her head.  "No," she said shortly.  She definitely didn't want to talk to an airhead bus conductor about Remus.

            She didn't take the hint.  "Why not?"  Her eyes widened.  "Have you met him already?  Are you two in love?"

            "No," Erin snapped.  How dense was this girl, anyway?

            "Then why don't you want to see him?"  Stacey pouted.  Erin stared at her in disbelief, partly out of exasperation that anyone could be so _thick, and partly because she'd never believed people actually pouted._

            "I don't know where he lives," Erin admitted.  Maybe that would make Stacey leave her alone.

            "Well, that's _easy!" Stacey exclaimed.  She pointed her wand at one of the letters.  "__Concedes originem!"_

            Erin started to snatch the letter away, when words, glowing a rosy pink, wrote themselves in the air above Stacey's wand: 1812 Leaf Fall Circle North, Wales, Great Britain, Europe, Earth, Milky Way – 

            "Oops!"  Stacey pulled her wand away with a giggle.  "Left it too long."  She turned to Erin.  "So are you going to see him now?"

            "Um…"  Erin still hesitated.  "How much would it cost?"

            "Um… twelve Sickles," Stacey said, after some thought.  "I don't know how much American money that is.  But there's a nice young wizard up there," she pointed to the front, "who works for Gringotts.  I'll bet he'd be glad to tell me!"

            _He probably would, Erin thought, a little sourly._

            "So is that where you want to go?"  Stacey looked at her with the big puppy dog eyes she'd probably go use on the young man at the front when she was through with Erin.  "Just _think how happy he'll be!"_

            "I'll think about it," Erin said at last.

            "Right."  Stacey nodded.  "I'll tell the driver."  She practically skipped up to the front.  The bus's jouncing didn't seem to bother her at all.

            Erin pulled her legs under her, staring at her letters.  She could meet Re– the person who'd written them.  Did she want to?  Really?

            _There's no reason to go assuming it's Remus, she cautioned herself.  __Just because there's this bus… and magic… and witches and wizards… that's no reason to think Remus is the one writing to me._

            It was still just a story.  New York existed, but it didn't follow that a portal to the Nine Fairy Tale Kingdoms did.  So it didn't follow that, just because she'd gotten picked up by this weird bus, Remus was the one writing to her.  It was still much more likely that her letters were being written by some practical joker who did some research on his or her victims.

            Which explained why she'd gotten one of her letters in a locked drawer.

            Erin put her head in her hands.  _I'm not going to think about this, she decided.  __It doesn't make sense.  At all.  I'll just sit here quietly, and see what happens.  Who knows… she smiled crookedly, __maybe I'll even wake up._

            "Leaf Circle North, Wales, for Erin Conner!" Stacey called.

            Erin went still.  "Already?" she asked, swallowing.   Some of the nearby passengers gave her suspicious looks.  She stood, picking up her backpack, and made her way up to the front, where Stacey was.

            "Yep!"  Stacey beamed.  "House 1812, right there."  She pointed.  "And that nice wizard who got off last stop told me how much you're supposed to pay in – what are they called?  Dollars?"

            "Yeah."  Erin pulled her wallet out of her backpack and paid, not really paying too much attention beyond the fact that she was now, except for about forty-three cents, completely broke.  "Thanks… I guess…"

            "I hope you and your boyfriend live happily ever after!" Stacey chirped as Erin left the bus.  But as Erin turned, the bus – BANG! – was gone.

            Erin stared at the house in front of her.  For the first time that morning, it really hit her just how _stupid coming here had been.  For all she knew, that bus had just taken her to some random place and thrown her out after taking all her money.  She was certainly just as lost as she had been before.  And she was missing her quarter exam in biology.  That thought actually made her a little more cheerful than she'd been._

            Still, she didn't really want to walk up to that house, ring the bell, and have to explain what she was doing there.  _"Hi, I'm an American teenager who's supposed to be taking her quarter exams, but this girl on the Knight Bus said you were sending me mysterious letters, so I just thought I'd stop by and ask."  Right.  That would get a great reception.  Maybe he'd even give her a choice in the mental wards he called._

            _But if you're not going to ask, another part of Erin's mind argued, __what did you come here for__?_

            _I was lost, the rational, sensible part of her brain replied._

            _And you couldn't have insisted on going back home to America? the other part scoffed.  __Come on, don't you want to know__?_

            _No.  Definitely not.  The reasonable part of her mind was quite firm about that.  __What if it isn't him?  What will I do then?  Or worse – what if it is__?  Suppose – just for the sake of argument – that it really is Remus in there.  What happens then?  I don't know him – I could hate him, for all I know!_

            The other part seemed to smile gently.  _I could never hate Remus.  No matter what he was like.  Nor could you.  Besides… what are you going to do if you walk away?  How are you going to explain being an American in Wales with no passport, no money, nothing but a bag of school books?_

            _I haven't figured that out yet…_

            Erin sighed and shook her head.  Wonderful.  Now she was hearing voices.  Soon she'd start arguing out loud with herself in the middle of the street.

            But that little mental war she'd been having had made one thing clear.  She couldn't just stand here forever.  She had to choose.  And walking away now simply wasn't an option.  Sometimes, when things get to a certain point, there's only one direction you can take.  Walk away?  She could more easily have taken flight.

            She let the house draw her forward, as a magnet draws iron.  There was a faint ringing in her ears, a mistiness to her mind, but all of it seemed to make the whole world clearer than it had ever been before.  There was more to what she was doing than she understood… but she didn't need to understand.  She knew, deep in the slumbering part of her mind that shaped her dreams, that she was changing something, crossing some bridge… or perhaps burning it.  But even that thought couldn't stop her from doing so.

            Every detail of the short walk – was it only short? – felt burned into her mind.  She didn't have a photographic memory, but later, she could remember everything, from how many steps it had taken her – twenty-six – to the flowers in the walkway – dark pink roses, and gold lantana, which had to be enchanted, because it never grew this far north.

            The almost dream-like state she was walking in ended when she pressed the doorbell.  Erin winced, wishing she'd waited a moment to think up a reason for being there.  Well, she'd just have to be creative, and hope.

            As it turned out, she didn't _need a reason.  When the door opened, it wasn't Remus at all – at least, Erin really __hoped not.  An oddly familiar woman stood there, green eyes wide._

            "Oh, my stars," she said softly.  "_Erin?"_

Disclaimer:  Please see previous parts.  The song lyrics are from the _Phantom, and belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber.  The various minor characters I had to create belong to me.  Oh, and I think I might have a Terry Pratchett quote from __Maskerade in there somewhere, but I don't remember, so don't waste your time looking for it._

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed!: Rain in Fire (Rage Point), Tsuki Tenshi, WildWitch, Ethsara ye'Kariannye, EmmaCF, Jessica, hailey, Caitlin, nycgal, Calbee, Ginavere, and LaNeil.

Author's Note:  Again, I plan to try for another chapter of Lightning Strikes before part 9 of this.  Hopefully I'll have both done in a reasonable amount of time.  I'm working as fast as I can.  Zhai'helleva!

Love,

Mystica


	10. Unknown

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  I apologize for the long delay.  I tried to write as fast as circumstances – and a rather whiny muse – would allow me.  My darling muse has been spouting creative idea after idea, and she is not happy that I simply don't have the time to write all of them.  Eventually I will.  For now… there is this.

**_Part 9 – Unknown_**

**Chapter 18**

_When you feel all alone_

_And the world has turned its back on you_

_Give me a moment please_

_To tame your wild, wild heart._

            "Um… excuse me?"  Erin stared at the woman.  "Do I know you?"

            "Well… probably not…"  She shook her head slowly.  "It's just – you look _exactly like Erin Connor, twenty years ago.  You've __got to be her daughter, or something."_

            Erin frowned.  "My mother's name is Rosemary.  I'm the only Erin in my family, and I wasn't alive twenty years ago.  Who are you?"  She tried to ignore the strange feeling that she ought to already know the answer to that question.

            "_You're Erin?"  The woman might as well not have heard the question.  "But… but…"  She stopped with a sigh.  "All right, I am officially confused."_

            _You're not the only one, Erin thought.  "Look, I guess I have the wrong house," she said quickly.  "Can you tell me where – well – "  Erin realized that she would look __really stupid asking which house belonged to Remus Lupin, " – never mind, I'll find it.  Goodbye!"  She started to back away._

            "Erin, don't go!" the woman cried in dismay.  "Look, Erin – it's me!  Lianne!"

            Erin froze.  "That's not funny.  I don't know who you are, or how you know about Lianne, but making jokes about a girl who's _missing is just wrong."_

            "I'm not missing, I'm right here!" she insisted.  "Erin, is it really you?  How come you look so young?"

            "Because I _am so young?" Erin suggested, with Autumn's usual sarcasm.  "Lianne is three years younger than me, ok?  And I'd really like to know how you know about her in the first place!"_

            "Because I'm her!"  The woman scowled.  "I'd believe _you, if you were telling me this!"_

            Erin rolled her eyes – then caught herself.  The woman really was awfully like Li.  She could very easily envision Lianne standing there, having this conversation.  Lianne wouldn't have the faintest idea why a twenty-year age gap would be such a problem in accepting this story, either.

            _And she does look like Lianne…  Erin couldn't help noticing that she moved and spoke just as Lianne did.  Her hair was cut in almost the same short, layered style, though it had grown out a little so the layering looked odd.  And her eyes were the same green.  She was even the same height as Li.  Admittedly, Lianne had never worn the sort of dress thing this woman had on, but that could simply have been because Lianne had never been able to find a costume store that would sell her decent witch robes for a price she could afford._

            Of course, the woman couldn't be Lianne herself.  That was just out of the question.  But she _could be a… a relative?  Maybe an aunt?  That was possible.  Erin nodded to herself.  That would explain a lot.  She conveniently ignored the fact that Li had never mentioned British relatives – or __any relatives, for that matter._

            "So, do you want to come in?" the woman asked.  "I mean, you can stand outside there if you really _want to, but I'd rather come in if it was me."  Suddenly, she smiled a little.  "You really ought to meet the master of the house."_

            "Um."  Erin hesitated.  On one hand, she'd been warned thousands of times not to do stupid things like going places with people she didn't know.  On the other hand, how many stupid things had she already done today?  This woman was slightly psycho, but she _had to be a relative of Lianne's, so it was probably the same not-too-dangerous psycho Li was.  And once she convinced the woman to stop pretending to be her… niece… or whatever… she could probably use her phone to call her parents.  __"Hi, Mom, guess where I am!"  Won't that be a fun conversation…_

            Erin sighed softly.  "Ok.  Sure.  I'll come in."

            Lianne's mind was reeling as she led the girl – _was it Erin?  Could it be? – into the house.  She supposed she ought to have asked Remus first, but he __had asked her to get the door.  It was his own fault._

            "Remus!" she called, approaching the kitchen.  "You have company!"

            "_Remus?" she heard the girl echo incredulously._

            "Company?  Who?"  Remus came out to meet them, raising his eyebrows at the girl.  "I don't believe we've met.  I'm Remus Lupin."

            The girl's eyes popped like a cartoon character's.  "Oh, Lord, I'm in a house of lunatics," she muttered, running a hand distractedly through her hair.

            "With Li here?  I won't deny it."  Remus smiled in a pleasant, if somewhat confused, manner.  "Lianne, is this a friend of yours?"

            "Um."  Lianne bit her lip.  "You know how I said that I knew Erin twenty years ago?"

            "What's that got to do with anything?" Remus asked, slightly wary.

            "Are you still saying you're Lianne?"  The girl rolled her eyes.  "Really, that is just – just ridiculous.  For one thing, and I _know I've mentioned this, Lianne is __younger than me.  And for another… for another…"  She stopped.  "Well, that's enough to prove you aren't her!"_

            Remus threw Lianne an accusing glare.  She recognized it from Hogwarts, though Sirius and James had usually been on the receiving end.  It was his What-In-The-World-Have-You-Idiots-Gotten-Me-Into glare, that had generally appeared right before detentions were given.

            "What, was I supposed to send her away?" Lianne asked defensively.  "She's one of Erin's relatives, or something.  She's got to be!"

            "What makes you say that?" Remus asked, just as the girl cried "I am _not!" in frustration._

            "Then who are you?" Lianne demanded, her attention turning from Remus.  "And how come you look exactly – and I mean _exactly – like her?"_

            The girl shook her head.  "Look," she said slowly, as if talking to a child, "my name is Erin Conner.  I know a girl named Lianne.  She disappeared three days ago.  She is _fifteen years old.  You do look a lot like her, but you __are not her.  Are we clear on all these points?"_

            "No," Remus said, forehead wrinkling in a frown of bewilderment as he stared from Lianne to the girl.

            Neither paid him any attention.  "Do you mean Lianne… as in, Lianne _Treyvan?" Li asked.  "Because that is __my name."_

            "Yes.  But… it's a coincidence.  It's got to be."  The girl's voice was slightly higher-pitched with stress.  "I mean, people don't disappear one day, and then turn up a few days later looking twenty years older!  And people don't just find themselves in England all of a sudden, when they were just trying to walk to the bus stop, and they _definitely don't get picked up by enormous purple monstrosities that take them halfway across the entire __world!  Normal people don't meet people who ought to be characters in books, and they don't get mysterious letters in locked drawers, and they don't have crazy things like this happening to them all the time!  Why can't my life just go back to being __normal!"_

            Lianne stared at her.  "Erin?" she said finally, amazement coloring her voice.

            "_Yes!" Erin all but shouted.  "Yes, of __course I'm Erin!  That's what I've been trying to tell you for the last ten minutes!"_

            "Um… excuse me?" Remus interrupted, his face very white, "but did you just say that _you are the one who's been getting my letters?"_

            This was not happening.  This was not _happening.  Remus swallowed hard.  This girl – this young, innocent, eighteen-year-old __girl – couldn't be the one he'd been writing to.  She just couldn't._

            Except… she sounded so sure…

            "What do you mean, _your letters?"  Erin looked at him suspiciously.  "It's all very cute to pretend to be Remus – "_

            "Why should I want to pretend?" Remus interrupted, baffled.  "It – it's probably someone else, anyway.  I've just been getting some – odd – letters lately, and when you mentioned locked drawers I thought you might be the Erin who wrote them."

            "Odd."  Erin's voice was flat.  "Odd how?"

            "Oh…"  Remus felt rather reluctant to tell someone he'd just met about these letters.  Lianne was one thing, but this girl… no.  "Nothing.  Forget I mentioned it."

            "Right."  Erin studied him a moment longer before looking back at Lianne.  "Can I use your phone?"

            Lianne giggled.  "Remus hasn't got one," she said, eyes dancing merrily.  Remus sighed softly.  Li was always delighted by the fact that wizards were hardly ever very clear on how Muggle objects worked.  He didn't have the heart to tell her that, while he didn't _own a telephone, he knew perfectly well what it was and how it worked.  She'd be so disappointed._

            Erin stared.  "You're joking."

            "I'm afraid not," Remus told her.  A sudden frown creased his forehead as a realization hit him.  This girl was a Muggle – that much was obvious.  She'd have to be, if she really was Lianne's friend from America.  Normally, he didn't have a problem with Muggles… but if she really was the Erin he knew, being a Muggle was just one more reason he'd better stop himself from falling in – in whatever with her.

            If he could.

            "All right, fine."  Erin sighed.  "Can you give me directions to a store or something?"

            Lianne frowned.  "You want to leave?  You just got here."

            "It was an accident," Erin said sharply.

            "How can you get here by accident?" Li asked.  "Either you meant to or you didn't."  She tilted her head a little to the side.  "Shouldn't you be in America?"

            Erin went white.  "Oh, stars, I forgot about that."

            "Forgot about what?"  Remus glanced from Erin to Lianne.  "Look, if you two are going to have a long discussion, why don't you come into the kitchen?  I can finish making that tea, and you can sit down."

            "That works."  Lianne shrugged and went on ahead into the other room.

            Erin watched her go a moment before turning to Remus.  "She doesn't really think she's the same Lianne I know, does she?" she asked, her voice almost pleading.  "I mean, she _can't be… she can't, right?"_

            Remus hesitated.  "I… I really don't know," he said at last.  "It does seem unlikely, but… well, I've seen less probable things come true.  Especially concerning Lianne."

            "Really?"  Erin raised her eyebrows.  "Such as?"

            "Oh – "  Remus realized that he couldn't actually explain about Lianne arriving at Hogwarts to Erin.  Not just because she was a Muggle, but because the explanation rather depended on Sirius.  And speaking about someone the rest of the world considered a dangerous murderer – innocent though he was – would not go over well.  "That's really up to Li to explain."

            "Huh."  Erin glanced away.  "So, what did you say your name was, again?"

            "Remus Lupin."

            "Blast!"  Erin scowled at him.

            Remus leaned back.  "What?  I'm sorry, it was my parents' fault, not mine!"

            Erin smiled a little.  "I was trying to catch you.  You're very good at that."

            "At what?" Remus asked blankly.

            "Oh, you know."  Erin shrugged.  "Faking your name.  Are you a professional actor, or something?  You have a great straight face."

            Remus blinked.  "I'm not faking my name, that's really it.  Remus Lupin."

            Erin rolled her eyes.  "Oh, yes, and I'm Legolas Greenleaf.  Of course."

            "I thought your name was Erin – "

            "Never mind."  Erin sighed.  "Call yourself Remus if you like, I don't care."

            "I'm glad to have your approval," Remus replied, smiling at her, though he was still confused.  "Why don't we go into the kitchen now?  I'm sure Lianne's wondering if space aliens came to kidnap us."

            Lianne was just about to get up and see what was taking Remus and Erin so long when they came in.  Remus was looking slightly bewildered – nothing particularly new there – and Erin seemed thoughtful, if a more than little resigned.

            Erin.  It was really Erin.  She could hardly grasp it.  Erin was here.  And not just Erin, but _eighteen-year-old Erin.  The same girl she'd known twenty years ago.  It didn't make sense._

            Then again, her life had stopped making sense the day she read the third Harry Potter book and fell in love with Sirius Black.

            "So… I'll see about that tea, then?"  Remus headed towards the counter.  "You do like tea?" he added, with an inquiring glance at Erin.

            "Oh – yeah, I guess so."  Erin sat gingerly in the chair opposite Lianne, at the table.  Her eyes went briefly to a book, lying facedown on the counter beside Remus, as the picture on the front waved.  Lianne shook her head at the sloppy proportioning – his arms only went to his _waist, for the sake of the stars! – as Erin shook her head a little, then looked firmly at her hands.  Li supposed that was rather a blessing, though.  If Erin had decided to gawk at the book, she might have noticed the letters – __her letters – to Remus underneath it._

            "So you were going to say how you got here from America."  Lianne propped her head in her hands, gazing at the younger girl attentively.

            "Oh – the bus."

            "The _bus?"  Lianne stared.  "Must've been the Magic School Bus or something, cause it flew over an ocean."_

            To her surprise, Erin nodded.  "Three times," she confirmed.  "We had to cross the Pacific twice.  Some surfer couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted to go to Australia or California."

            Lianne blinked.  "Um… unless something really _weird has been going on in the Muggle world without me knowing, buses don't do that."_

            "The Knight Bus does," Remus offered.

            "Why would the Knight Bus pick up a Muggle?" Lianne began – but she stopped at the expression on Erin's face.  "You don't mean it really _did?"_

            "Well…"  Erin went back to studying her hands.  "Sort of… kind of… maybe."

            "Wow."  Lianne laughed.  "Someone screwed up at the bus company.  So you came across the Knight Bus and got on it without looking back?"  She grinned.  "I'm proud of you, Erin.  Autumn wouldn't have done it."

            Erin started.  "You – how do you know Autumn?"

            Lianne frowned.  "High school, remember?  You, Autumn, Hazel, me?  Does this ring a bell at all?"

            "But how do you _know that?" Erin demanded.  "You – you can't.  You shouldn't.  You just – can't."_

            "I know because I was there," Li said impatiently.  "How did you think?  I can't read minds, you know."

            "You weren't there," Erin insisted.

            "I was."  Lianne folded her arms stubbornly.  "Go on – ask me something.  Anything.  Ask me something only I would know, and I'll _prove it was me."_

            "Fine."  Erin closed her eyes in a moment's thought.  "Hazel's last name?"

            "Randel."  Lianne rolled her eyes.  "_Everyone knows that.  Ask me something hard."_

            "I'm getting there."  Erin tapped her nails on the table in nervous staccato beats.  "All right – what class did we have together?"

            "Art."  Lianne thought for a few seconds.  "It was right before lunch, so… second period?"

            "Huh."  Erin shook her head.  "Lucky guesses, that's all."  She smiled slightly.  "What was happening to Autumn that was somewhat… out of the ordinary?"

            "Telephone calls from Draco Malfoy," Lianne said promptly.

            "From _who?"  Remus turned around, eyes wide.  "The little blond prat who was always antagonizing Harry?"_

            "The same."  Li shrugged.  "Where he got hold of a telephone, don't ask me – no, wait."  She frowned.  "Didn't Autumn say something about how he was saying Muggle Studies became a required class?"

            "Muggle Studies isn't required," Remus informed them.  "The school governors have been arguing about it for three or four years, but they're still undecided."

            "Personally, I'm just as glad."  Lianne sighed.  "If I'd had even one more class, I'd've seriously lost it."

            "You've lost it already," Remus said with a grin.

            "I'll find it and lose it again," she retorted.  "Anyway, Erin – Erin?"

            That was when they noticed Erin was silent, not because she had no idea what they were going on about, but because she was staring at the papers underneath Remus's book, eyes wide in shock.

            _My handwriting.  That is my__ handwriting.  Erin blinked a couple times, but it didn't change the fact that those papers had __her handwriting on them._

            "Oh, my God," she whispered, hardly aware she was speaking aloud.  "Oh, my _God."  Her hands raised themselves to rest with their fingertips over her lips, her erratic breath warm against them._

            "Erin?"  A hand laid itself on her shoulder.  "Are you ok?"

            She didn't answer.  She didn't think she could.  How could she respond to this?  To _this – proof beyond any shadow of doubt of where she was, who she was with?_

            Her letters had come here.  She could see that much, anyway.  Her letters had crossed an ocean from within secret notebooks and locked drawers to come here – here to this country, this house, this man.

            _This man.  Erin felt faint, her stomach churning with revulsion.  Someone – no, not just someone, this man here – had read her letters.  Of course, she'd known there was someone out there reading what she wrote down, but still.  That didn't make her feel any better._

            It was just like when she'd found that first letter from him, all over again.  She felt betrayed, and hollow, as though something precious had been stolen from her.  She'd thought that feeling had gone, when she'd made up her mind to "make him pay."  But no.  It was back again, worse than ever.  Someone knew.  _He knew.  He knew that she loved Remus – not __him, no matter what he called himself, but __her Remus, the __real Remus – so much it hurt her to think too hard about it.  He knew that she wrote empty love letters to her love, because he could never write back.  __He knew._

            She'd always anguish far too melodramatic a word for everyday emotions – but this violation of her secret self was not ordinary, and anguish was the only word that fit.    Her breath trembled against her hands, dry, voiceless sobs that matched the heavy tears that weighed unshed behind her eyes.  She wanted to cry – wanted very badly to cry – but she couldn't.  She couldn't.  Nothing would coax those tears forward, to bring the release that weeping often gave.

            A voice, almost frantic by now, made its way into her dazed, grief-fogged mind.  " – hear me?  Erin?  _Erin?  God, Erin, __say something!  Erin!"_

            "Lianne?"  Erin looked up at her, eyes searching for some glimpse of compassion, some reason to trust.  The woman's face was taut with worry, her eyes brimming with the same anxiety her voice had held.  And even if it was twenty years older, hers was the same voice she'd heard over the phone, the night she'd gotten that first letter – full of real distress for her friend, with a slight high note of panic, and a determination that _nothing should keep her friend in pain, if there was anything she could possibly do about it.  "Li – it really is you, isn't it?"_

            "Yeah."  Li nodded, some of the worry fading from her eyes.  "Erin, what is it?"

            Erin just pointed across the table, saying nothing.  Lianne nodded in understanding.  "Your letters?  Yes, Remus was telling me right before you got here how they were confusing him."

            "It is nice to meet the la– the young lady who wrote them," the man who couldn't possibly be Remus added.  "I was wondering – "

            "Oh, shut up."  Erin looked away from him in disgust.  She didn't want to look at him – didn't even want to think about him.  The worst of it was that he even looked like Remus, and spoke like Remus.  It might not have been so bad if he had been red-haired, smart-alecky, and overweight… or maybe it would have.  She just knew she couldn't deal with him right now.

            "Say, Remus," Lianne spoke up, "weren't you just saying how you wanted to go for a walk?"

            "Was I?"  He sounded puzzled.

            "Yes," Li told him firmly.  "A nice walk, for – oh – thirty, forty-five minutes.  The fresh air will do you good."

            "Aren't you the one who says fresh air is – "

            "Remus.  Walk."

            With a sigh, the man shrugged in defeat and went to the door, muttering about being thrown out of his own home.  "I'll be back soon," he said, before leaving.

            "Thanks," Erin said, when the door was shut behind him.  Everything seemed a lot easier to take, somehow, now that he wasn't there, looking so distressingly like Remus.

            "That's what friends are for."  Lianne looked around.  "Do you want tea?  There's a whole pot of it.  It's really soothing."

            "I dunno.  I guess."  Erin watched Lianne pour two cups of tea and bring them to the table, along with milk and sugar.  "I don't need that other stuff."

            "That's ok, I do."  Li handed her the first cup, which was full, then filled the second, half-full cup with milk.  Erin studied the tea dubiously, then took a cautious sip.  Li was right, it was soothing.  She put her hands around the mug and soaked up the heat.

            "Lianne?"  Erin looked up at the woman – the _older woman.  "Can I ask you something?"_

            "Sure, go ahead."  She cocked her head attentively to one side.

            "Well… how come you're older than me, all of a sudden?" Erin asked.  "I mean, really, you've only been gone a few days – "

            "I've been gone twenty years," Li interrupted.  "At least, from where _I'm standing it was twenty.  Maybe it was a lot less for you.  Somehow."  A light dawned on her face.  "Oh – that's why you never came to see me in the hospital!  You didn't know I was there, did you?"_

            "You were in the hospital?"  Erin blinked.  This was news to her.

            "Yeah."  A shadow passed behind Lianne's eyes.  "After the car crash – which I still don't really remember, but I've been told by competent psychiatrists that I've blocked it out and it's perfectly normal – after the car crash, they kept me there, rather than send me back to an empty house.  I don't think I'd have wanted to go back there, even if I'd had the choice.  Not with Josh and Mom gone."

            "Gone?"  Erin frowned.  "Gone where?"

            Lianne came back from whatever distant past she'd been visiting.  "The great beyond.  You know – they died."

            "But they were fine a few days ago!" Erin objected.  "I went to see them, the day you disappeared – they were alive then."

            Lianne's face went white.  She shook her head.  "No – no, you must be confused, or something.  It's a mistake.  They're dead.  Nothing would've happened, if they weren't dead.  It must have been after you saw them."

            "Um…"  Erin decided it would be somewhat tactless to mention the fact that Ms. Treyvan hadn't even been aware she had a daughter.  "Yeah."  She traced the rim of her cup with one finger.  "I'm sorry, Li."

            She shrugged.  "I'm fine.  It was a long time ago."  She sighed, then looked back up at Erin.  "So why weren't you happier to see Remus?"

            Erin's expression went stony.  "Li, that is _not Remus."_

            "Sure it is."  Lianne tried her tea – her tea-flavored milk, by now – and winced.  "Ow, hot.  Anyway, of course it's Remus.  Who else would it be?"

            "An impersonator?  Someone who wants to make me look stupid?" Erin suggested.

            "Oh, Remus wouldn't do that," Lianne said positively.  "I've known him for years.  He's a nice guy."

            "Lianne."  Erin stared at her.  "Remus Lupin is a character in a story.  He is not real.  You do know that, right?"

            "No, I don't."  Lianne paused for a moment, organizing her thoughts.  "Look, Erin, don't believe those books are just stories.  They aren't.  They are _real."  She cut off Erin's scoffing retort.  "No, they are!  I've been to Hogwarts, I've met Dumbledore, I've seen magic – I've __worked magic!"_

            "You're joking."  It was the sort of joke Lianne would try, too.  Erin held back a sigh of regret.  She'd really love for this one to be true, but Lianne had always insisted the world of Hogwarts and so on was real.

            But… there was that Knight Bus…

            "I swear I'm telling the truth."  And Lianne did look as serious as she ever did.  "I'll prove it to you, if you like.  I'm technically not supposed to, since I suppose you _are a Muggle, but if you keep your mouth shut, no one will ever know.  If you want to see?"_

            "Pick a card, any card?"  Erin raised an ironic eyebrow.

            "No, I can't do sleight of hand."  Lianne pulled a stick from a pocket in her grey-green robes.  No – not a stick.  It had to be a wand.  "I was thinking more along the lines of levitation.  That's simple enough, and it shouldn't destroy any of Remus's house, either.  In case I get it wrong."

            "What about that Diana Wynne Jones book?" Erin asked, grinning a little.  "Where the kid was just trying to levitate the mirror – "

            "Don't distract me."  Lianne looked around.  "Um… something that won't break… there.  The potholder will do."  Erin twisted around in her chair to watch both Lianne and the object she'd named.

            Lianne pointed her wand at the potholder, a look of intense concentration creasing her forehead and narrowing her eyes.  She took a deep breath, and, with a strange swishing motion of her wand – "_Wingardium leviosa!" – the potholder caught fire._

            "Drat it!"  Lianne jumped up and grabbed a non-burning end to fling it in the sink.  "I was _sure I could manage that."  She sighed, running water on it.  "I hate charms.  I really, __really hate charms."_

            Erin, meanwhile, was staring in shock.  "You set fire to it!"

            "Yeah."  Li shook her head.  "Fire is one thing I can _always conjure."  She glared into the sink.  "Maybe Remus did something to it…"_

            "But – you set _fire to it.  You did __magic."  Erin blinked, rubbing her temples gently.  "Li – what's going on?"_

            "It's a long story."  Lianne sat back down beside Erin.  "But basically, it started the day I landed in the hospital…"

            "… and then I came to tell Remus about some stuff for Dumbledore and found you," Lianne concluded.

            Erin was still stuck further back in the fifteen minutes' worth of explanation.  "You got _married?"_

            Lianne grinned.  "Yep."  She held up a hand to show off her engagement and wedding rings.  "See, I even have shiny jewelry to prove it."

            "You married _Sirius?"  Erin shook her head slowly.  "My God, Li… you are either the luckiest girl on the planet, or the craziest."_

            "Lucky?"  Lianne sighed.  "I don't know if that's what _I'd call it."_

            "You got to marry your dream guy," Erin pointed out.  "How many girls get that?"

            "Not too many."  Lianne grinned.  "You will, though."

            "What, me – oh."  Erin traced a pattern on the side of her near-empty mug.  "You mean Remus."

            "Sure.  He likes you, I know he does."  Lianne bounced up and down in her seat, just like a five-year-old child.  "You're going to get together with him, right?"

            Erin had to laugh.  "I don't know.  I mean, really, Li, I have to get back to America eventually.  And long distance relationships are notorious for failure."

            "It could still work," Lianne said optimistically.  "It's worked so far, hasn't it?  And there's nothing as long distance as the world within a book."

            "Lianne… I don't know."  Erin propped her head on one hand, looking at the residue in her teacup.  She began to grin suddenly.  "Say, Li?"

            "Mm-hmm?"

            "I don't suppose you can read tea leaves?"

            Lianne started, then laughed.  "Divination?  Not really.  I mean, I could try, but it would be pretty much just for your amusement.  Nothing to base your life on or anything."

            "All right."  Erin pushed the cup at Lianne.

            "Oh, no, you haven't done it properly.  I do know this much.  Lily – " Lianne glanced down a moment before continuing, " – she read all our fortunes through tea leaves once a day for the week before her N.E.W.T.s."  She fetched a plate.  "Here.  Turn your cup around three times, then dump what's inside on this."

            Erin complied, grimacing as she removed the mug.  "This means something?"

            "I don't know."  Lianne grinned.  "Let's see…"  She squinted at it.  "Well… there's a balloon?  And a rainbow – no, that's a mountain.  No, a rainbow.  And that blob there is probably a donkey."

            "You're making that up, aren't you?" Erin said, shaking her head.

            "Making what up?"

            Erin caught her breath as Remus reentered.  Now that she knew it really _was Remus, her heart decided it was free to flip-flop at the sight of him as it saw fit.  He was very good-looking.  His light brown hair was going grey already, yes, but she'd known it would be.  And it did flop endearingly across his forehead…_

            She shook herself out of her daze.  This was not sensible.  She was going back to America soon anyway, and like as not she'd never see him again.  There were plenty of handsome men back home.

            Of course, none of them were Remus.

            _Ok, now I'm just being silly, Erin scolded herself.  __He isn't my Remus, and he's twenty years older than me, and he lives here in England, and he's certainly not going to be interested in a boring American high schooler like me.  He had to be a wizard, of course.  No telephone, and with moving illustrations on his books – definitely a wizard.  He probably already had a witch girlfriend.  A pretty witch.  His own age.  Here in England._

            Before she could fall into a deep, completely unreasonable depression, Erin forced herself to listen to what Lianne was saying.

            "Erin asked me to read her tea leaves, just as a joke."  Lianne pushed the cup at him.  "Here, you do it.  Everyone said you should've taken Divination."

            Remus smiled wryly.  "I don't think I'd've liked some of the things the crystal ball would've shown for me," he said evasively.  He peered at the plate.  "Let's see.  A noose?  Is that a noose?  Yes, it must be."

            "It's a branch," Li objected, coming behind him to look over his shoulder.

            Remus gave her an odd look.  "It isn't.  It looks nothing like a branch.  I thought it might be a snake, but it's definitely not a branch."  He passed the cup back to Erin with a laugh.  "Don't believe what Li says, I was never much good at this.  If you believe what I was seeing, you're about to take a dangerous journey of intrigue and treachery.  Sibyl must have rubbed off on me."

            "Who?"  Erin looked at him in confusion.  Did he mean Sibyl _Trelawney?_

            "Oh – someone I used to work with, that's all."  Remus shrugged.  "I hope you two had a nice chat?"

            "Yes, quite."  Lianne smiled innocently.  "Was your walk fun?"

            Remus mock-glared at her.  "Ingrate."

            "Who, me?"

            "Excuse me," Erin interrupted, "but I probably ought to find somewhere I can call my mother from.  I'm going to need a way home eventually."

            "Oh, that's no trouble," Remus assured her.  "Actually, it would probably be easiest if you just used Floo Powder to get back to somewhere in America that you recognize."

            "Yeah, they have somewhere in every state," Lianne agreed.  "For lost Apparaters, mostly, but they won't care if you use it.  I'll take you, if you like.  You probably don't want to have to explain to them why you're there, since you _are a Muggle and all."_

            "Um."  Erin looked from one to the other.  She didn't actually want to leave right then, she'd just thought she should mention it.  But really… she didn't belong here.  She belonged back in America.  Maybe Lianne had been adopted into this world, but Erin herself was an outsider.  At least now she knew where Li had been – and that her dreams really had come true.  That was enough, wasn't it?

            It would have to be.  "Sure.  I'm ready."

            Remus propped his head in his hands, staring at the empty room.  Lianne had gone to take Erin back to America, leaving him here.  Alone with his thoughts.

            _I suppose I should have realized, he thought morosely.  __Her first letter was typical teenage unrequited love.  I should have known__ she was too young._

            It wasn't even that he hadn't wanted to know.  It just had never occurred to him.  He'd told himself a lot of things – she was engaged, she didn't know who he was, she probably lived thousands of miles away – but that she would be eighteen?  No, he'd never even considered it.

            _Well, it's over and done.  Remus sighed.  She was back in America by now, back where she belonged.  She could meet a nice American eighteen-year-old boy, and they could have a sweet little romance, and she could live happily ever after without ever thinking about him again.  And he would get on with his life, helping Dumbledore and the Aurors, fighting Voldemort until he was caught and killed._

            _Isn't this a pleasant train of thought?  Remus picked up a book and idly flipped through the pages.  He ought to do something to distract himself, but he hadn't the faintest idea what.  Cleaning up the teacups, he'd broken one and cut his palm.  Wandering aimlessly around the house, he'd tripped over things he knew perfectly well were there, such as walls.  Trying to read, the words blurred into a neat, somewhat angular cursive, and he realized he'd memorized the letters she'd sent him.  That was just sad._

            _What was I expecting, anyway? he wondered.  __That I'd meet her, and she'd be swept off her feet with love, and she'd be kind, and sweet, and all-around perfect, and wouldn't even care when I told her I'm a werewolf?  Or no – if we're going to dream, maybe I'd never have to tell her.  She just never questions the fact that, once a month, I disappear.  Why not?  It's about as realistic as anything coming of this.  Even if she were my age, it never would have worked._

            He was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't even realize Li had returned until she spoke.

            "Hey."

            "Oh, you're back… already…"  Remus's voice trailed off as he looked from Lianne, twining a lock of her hair around her wand in a bad habit that only resurfaced when she was nervous, to Erin, staring forward with wide eyes unseeing in her pale face.  "What happened?"

            "We couldn't find her parents," Lianne said, not even noticing as a shower of indignant sparks from her outraged wand tinted her skin and hair green.  "Or her house.  Or anything.  I'm amazed we found the town."

            "What do you mean?" Remus asked, puzzled.  "You got lost?"  But it hadn't sounded like she meant they were lost…

            "No, we did not get lost!"  Lianne glared at him.  "It's the same thing that happened to me, that time I went looking for Erin and everyone.  I couldn't find where they lived, or their phone numbers, or anything.  It was as if they'd vanished.  Just – _vanished, right off the planet."_

            "Stop it, Li."  Erin's voice was, to her credit, only slightly shaky.  "Just stop.  I don't need you to help me think of horrible scenarios."

            "Erin – I'm sorry!"  Lianne hugged her fiercely.  The younger girl stiffened, but Li didn't let go for a few more seconds.

            "How can people disappear?" Remus said.  "I mean – they don't, do they?  Not anymore…"  The words died in his throat, and he met Lianne's eyes in growing horror.  "No.  He wouldn't.  Not just some random Muggles, not over in America.  He wouldn't, would he?  I mean – there's no reason!"

            "Who?  What?"  Erin stared at him, swallowing hard.  "What are you talking about?"

            "No – there's no reason," Lianne agreed, ignoring Erin.  "It – it would be too much of a coincidence, wouldn't it?  That of all the people in America – in the _world – he'd pick Erin and her family?"_

            "_Who?" Erin demanded.  "Stop acting like I'm not here!"_

            "Erin – there is a very evil man – " Remus began.

            "Voldemort," Lianne interrupted, an odd, intense look in her eyes.

            To Remus's surprise, the name actually seemed to register with Erin.  She shivered violently.  "Why the hell not?"  She covered her face with one hand.  "Why shouldn't the villains be real, too?  And now you're going to tell me that I'm really the chosen heir of Godric Gryffindor or the great-granddaughter of Merlin or the goddamn Miko of Suzaku, aren't you?"

            Lianne didn't say anything, just touched Erin's shoulder sympathetically.  When Erin finally looked up, Li said, "We don't know it was – Voldemort – you know.  That was just the first thing that came to mind.  It's pretty clearly magic, though."

            "You're sure?" Remus asked.

            "It's like everything we knew was totally erased."  Lianne nodded grimly.  "It had to be magic.  I'm sure."

            "Should the Aurors be told?"  Remus wasn't convinced Li hadn't just gotten lost, but he thought the idea ought to be brought up.  "Just in case?"

            "Um."  Lianne looked at Erin.  "What do you think?"

            Erin shrugged.  "I really don't know.  Just – whatever.  Do whatever you think."

            Lianne looked rather indecisive, so Remus nodded firmly.  "The Aurors.  I can't see how erasing something's existence could be anything but Dark magic, and that _is their area of expertise.  And anyway, neither of us is exactly in the Ministry's good graces at the moment.  Going to them would probably just result in more trouble."_

            "You're in trouble with the _government?"  Erin looked mildly horrified, but not particularly surprised._

            "Long story."  Lianne sighed.  "So.  Guess you're staying on with me till Wednesday, Erin."

            "Here?" Erin asked.

            "Oh, no, we couldn't possibly impose on poor Remus," Lianne said angelically, as Remus made a face and mumbled about how _that had never stopped her.  "I've got a hotel room nearby."_

            "You have?"

            "Yes, I wanted to be around when your company arrives," Li told him.

            "I'm having _company?"  This was news to Remus._

            "Yeah, Sirius is going to stay here.  He didn't let you know?"  Lianne rolled her eyes.  "Figures."

            "Well – I don't have room for all three of you, so you'd kind of need to stay somewhere else."  Remus breathed a soft sigh of relief.  He really, _really did not want Erin at his house overnight._

            "So."  Lianne turned to Erin.  "I don't suppose you happened to have been carrying around several changes of clothing?"

            "Nope."  Erin had to smile.

            "Well…"  Lianne squinted at her.  "You might fit into some of mine, if we alter them a little."

            "You're going to do clothing magic?" Remus asked, alarmed.  That was mostly charms, which had _not been Lianne's strong point at school._

            "Yes, I am," Lianne said defensively.  "I think I can manage Stretching Spells and Mending Magery."

            "Huh."  Remus shook his head.  "If you say so."  He shrugged.  "See you on Wednesday?"

            "Probably before that."  Lianne grinned at Remus's wary expression.  "Well, Sirius is going to be here, isn't he?"

            "Um."  Remus glanced somewhat awkwardly at Erin.  Should they be talking about Sirius in front of her?  He couldn't see it going over too well, that her friend had married a known murderer, especially after the shocks she'd already had today.

            But she surprised him by, once again, knowing exactly what she couldn't possibly have an inkling of.  "Won't this be the first place government people look for him?  If _I were on the run, I'd go see __my old friends."_

            "They did," Lianne said calmly.  "About a year ago, after Remus left Hogwarts.  Sirius was with me by then, so they were disappointed.  And they decided Remus was clean.  Relatively."

            "Ah."  Erin nodded.  She smiled a little.  "He's as wonderful as you thought he'd be?"

            "More than."  Lianne grinned.  "Does Remus here measure up to _your expectations?"_

            "_Lianne!"  Erin didn't turn red, but the expression of horror on her face could put a Petrified person to shame._

            Remus blushed enough for the both of them.  "This is _really not the time, Li," he managed.  "Weren't you saying you'd better be going?"_

            "Oh, yes."  Lianne's grin widened.  _She is doing her bloody best to cause trouble, isn't she? Remus thought darkly.  Really, Lianne ought to have more sense than to try to play matchmaker with him – a thirty-five-year-old __werewolf – and a sweet eighteen-year-old girl fresh out of Muggle America.  She could at least __pretend to be a responsible adult!  "See you soon, Remus!"_

            "Yeah."  Remus sighed as Li and Erin walked out the front door.  "See you."

Author's Note:  Finally.  Stars above, that chapter was impossible.  Don't ask me why, but I had the most difficulty writing it.  Sigh.  Anyway.  The next part will deal more with the obligatory plot (yes, that's right, there _is a plot somewhere in this tangled mess! *all gasp in shock*), as well as Erin, Remus, and their internal dilemmas.  We won't be revisiting Hazel and Autumn (or Harry, or Draco) for a long while yet.  Maybe part 11, if there are no unexpected delays._

Thank you to everyone who reviewed this:  Evil*Fairy, Tsuki Tenshi, NYCGAL, EmmaCF, Jessica, My Lady Baroness, Calbee, Ginavere, leanne, and hailey.  I love all of you!

Zhai'helleva!

Mystica


	11. A Stake In Silver

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  Welcome, one and all, to the chapter concerning the obligatory Plot.  I am so sorry about the delay.  I cannot begin to express how sorry I am.  It was a combination of school (projects and exams), computer crashes, and sheer exhaustion.  But anyway, I would like to thank everyone persistent enough to have stuck with me up till now.  Individual thanks are at the end, but I wanted to let you know that I am grateful.  I embrace you all in spirit!  Now… onward.

**_Part 10 – A Stake in Silver_**

**Chapter 19**

_I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you_

_It's hard to find relief_

_And people can be so cold_

_When darkness is upon your door_

_And you feel like you can't take anymore._

            "I still feel silly," Erin repeated.

            "You look it."  Lianne wrinkled her nose.  "Olive is _not your color."_

            Erin rolled her eyes.  "That wasn't what I meant.  I feel like a little kid playing dress-up."  She picked at the sleeve of the set of robes Lianne had altered to fit her, with only a few minor mishaps.  And the sleeves looked better short anyway.  "Are you sure I can't just wear normal clothes?"

            "These are perfectly normal," Li insisted.  "Besides, I can't take you to an Auror meeting dressed like a Muggle.  People will get suspicious, and with that bunch, suspicions can be hazardous to your health."

            Erin stifled a sigh.  They'd been over this already, several times.  She didn't want to wear Lianne's robes – Li was about three inches shorter than Erin, and as she'd said, Erin was _not an olive person – and Lianne wouldn't let her go meet a group of witches and wizards in jeans.  Whatever this meeting was, it was clearly really important.  Lianne was getting awfully worked up about it._

            Honestly, Erin didn't particularly want to go to the meeting.  But she didn't have a choice.  Lianne was checking out of her hotel room in an hour, and going right to the meeting.  Erin's choices were go with her, or try to talk the manager into giving her a room for free.  Somehow she didn't see that happening.  And as for going home…

            No.  She couldn't think about that.  She refused to.  Somewhere in the back of her mind lurked the awful knowledge that she no longer had a home to go to… but if she thought about it, she knew it would send her over the edge of the precipice she was teetering on, between stable sanity and the wild mind-shattering blur that haunted her.

            Lianne had, of course, said that Erin had a home with her as long as she needed one.  It wasn't the same, but it was somewhere for her to be, something for her to do.  As long as she was traveling with Lianne, delivering messages to Aurors, she couldn't dwell on the sudden disappearance of everything she'd ever known.

            "Erin?  Are you listening?"

            Erin looked up with a start.  "Sorry, I wasn't."

            "Ah.  That would explain it."  Li nodded.  "So your silence was _not an agreement?"_

            "Agreement to what?" Erin asked warily.

            "Nothing, nothing."  Lianne smiled innocently.  "So are you ready?"

            "I guess so."  Erin shrugged.

            "Good."  Lianne began rummaging in her trunk – an actual wooden _trunk, that couldn't be mistaken for a suitcase in any way, shape, or form – and pulled out another set of robes, in a darker shade of the same color Erin had.  They were also somewhat wrinkled.  Lianne looked from her wand to the iron the Muggle hotel provided them with, back to her wand.  "Um…"_

            "Here, _I'll do it."  Erin took the robes from Li.  No matter whether she used the iron or magic, Lianne was likely to start a fire either way.  Erin might not be a witch, but she could iron without burning anything._

            "Aren't you ready yet?"  Sirius peered impatiently into Remus's room.  "How many times do you need to brush your hair, anyway?"

            "Once!  This is the first time today I've had a chance," Remus protested.

            Sirius raised an eyebrow.  "Fine, Moony, whatever you say."

            "And just what is that supposed to mean?"  Remus turned to his friend, crossing his arms suspiciously.

            "It means that I think you have your own special reasons for spending so much time trying to look nice."  Sirius grinned.  "Was I this bad when Li and I first got together?"

            Remus turned red.  "Erin and I are _not together."_

            "Not yet," Sirius amended.

            Remus rolled his eyes.  "Not _ever.  I don't know if you noticed, Padfoot, but that girl is just a __girl.  She's only eighteen!"_

            Sirius shrugged.  "Eighteen's legal."

            "So that means that you have no problems at all with a twenty-year age gap?" Remus demanded incredulously.

            "It's not twenty years.  If she's eighteen, it'd only be…" Sirius thought a moment, "seventeen years."

            Remus shook his head.  "Padfoot, you are missing the key point in this conversation."

            "I'm not missing anything, Remus," Sirius said calmly.  "I think you're the one who's missing things."

            "Oh, really?"  Remus sighed patiently.  "All right, then.  Enlighten me."

            "With pleasure."  Sirius grinned, perching on the foot of Remus's bed.  "You like Erin, and she likes you.  But you don't believe anyone could possibly like you romantically because you are, always have been, and always will be incredibly insecure."

            "I am not – "

            "Yes, you are.  Hush, I'm not done."

            "Fine."  Remus sat beside his friend in resignation.  "Continue."

            "Right."  Sirius nodded.  "So you think that she'll find someone worthier than you, so you shouldn't even bother trying to make her love you, because you haven't got a prayer.  You figure that if you do let yourself fall for her, she'll leave you as soon as she learns you're a werewolf."

            Remus waited a moment, but Sirius appeared to be finished.  "Now that you've completely analyzed my psyche…?"  His friend nodded.  "All right.  Let me explain something to you, Padfoot.  Whether or not I am insecure is not the issue here.  The issue is the fact that Erin is _eighteen.  Eighteen-year-olds do not fall in love with thirty-five-year-olds.  They just don't.  And there are words for thirty-five-year-olds who go after eighteen-year-olds._

            "This has nothing to do with me being afraid of rejection.  Really, it doesn't."  Remus leveled a gaze on his friend.  "Can you honestly tell me that, if it were you and Li in this position, with you seventeen years older than her, you would have had a relationship with her without a second thought?"

            Sirius gazed right back, honest and unashamed.  "No."

            "You see – "

            "No, Remus, hear me out."  Sirius cut him off.  "No, I'd have given it a second thought.  Of course I would have.  You can't have any kind of relationship at all without thinking about it at some point.  But I'd've done it anyway, or regretted it all my life."  Sirius smiled sadly.  "That's one thing I've learned, over the years.  You take chances when you get them.  You have to.  Otherwise you might never get that chance again.  If Li and I hadn't gotten married when we did, when we were twenty, neither of us would have had that memory to hold on to, of those few happy years.  If we'd hesitated…"  He shook his head.  "Well, either you understand, or you don't.  The point is, you could love this girl, if you don't already.  And I don't want you to wake up one morning and realize it, and then remember that you're just a little too late."

            "Sirius!"

            Erin hid a grin as Lianne flung herself at her husband.  It was sweet, but Li's hugs tended to knock all the air out of people, then not give them the chance to catch their breath again till they were blue and gasping.  Sirius was the only one Erin'd seen yet who didn't mind at all.

            She hadn't known what to think when she'd met Sirius Black.  Not because he was a story character – though that was a bit disconcerting, when she thought of it – but because he was Lianne's husband.  Thinking of Lianne being married was strange.  It was easy to forget that Li was older now, since she was still as silly as ever most of the time, but seeing her with Sirius was a sharp reminder of the lost years between them.

            "So… are you two ready?" Remus asked, when Lianne released Sirius.

            "Yup."  Lianne pulled something from her pocket.  "And I got this by Owl Order.  I felt guilty about using up your supply of Floo Powder all the time."

            "Oh, you didn't need to – "

            "Yes, I did," Lianne overrode him.  "The three of us can't go on taking advantage of your generosity indefinitely."

            Lianne handed a vial of glittery powder to Remus, who gave up on his attempts at protesting and placed it on a shelf beside his fireplace.  Erin rather suspected Li had ulterior motives for buying Remus magic supplies – she'd overheard Sirius and Lianne discussing how Remus wasn't doing so well financially.  Apparently, they were paying Remus for letting Sirius stay there, insisting it was only enough to cover the extra food, and Remus wasn't aware of just how much money they'd transferred into his Gringotts account.

            And that wasn't the only reason Erin had seen to worry about Remus.  Monday night had been a full moon, and today, three days later, he still hadn't recovered fully.  The nearest wizarding hospital sold him his dosage of the Wolfsbane Potion – as insurance, to Sirius's rather vocal disgust, wouldn't cover the charges – but Wolfsbane, as Lianne, eyes grim with worry, had explained, wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

            Erin had been horrified to discover that the Wolfsbane Potion was exactly what it sounded like – the bane of wolves.  To be more precise, it was a poison.  Oh, a low dose of poison, maybe, but that was still what it was.  The potion weakened the werewolf in Remus enough that his humanity could reassert control.  But if he overdosed on the potion, or it wasn't made properly, the wolf could become too weak, and die – taking Remus with it.

            Many werewolves refused to take the potion at all.  Their exhaustion remained, but without the addition of poison to their fatigue, it was not so pronounced.  And with the risk of being killed by a poorly made potion, more than a third of the werewolves felt it wasn't worth it.  Certainly the semi-wild wolf tribes thought as much.

            "We'd better find the Portkey, then," Sirius said, looking over at Remus.  "It's supposed to activate… when?"

            Remus glanced at the clock.  "Two minutes.  And yes," he cut Lianne off, "I do have the map.  And _I am going to navigate, not you, or Sirius.  We are going to get from the empty lot to Dumbledore's house without any mishaps."_

            "Aye, aye, captain!" Lianne saluted sharply.  Remus rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

            "Do they know how many of us are coming?" Sirius wondered.  "Some of those Aurors still think I'm a traitor, and none of them know Erin.  Will they even let us in?"

            "Um."  Lianne glanced at Remus, but he was busy keeping an eye on the clock, counting down the remaining seventy-three seconds under his breath.  "Well, I'm sure they won't keep you out.  Dumbledore will explain everything to them."

            "Even about me?" Erin asked.  She'd figured she probably wouldn't be allowed to sit in at the actual meeting, but it hadn't occurred to her that she wouldn't be let in.

            "Well, if worst comes to worst, they won't do much more than send you away for a few hours," Sirius said after a pause.  "I'm not entirely sure what they'll do with me, though."

            "You're worrying too much," Remus said, not looking away from the clock.  "Dumbledore wants you there, he won't let you be thrown out.  Get ready, we've only got about forty-five more seconds."  He looked at Erin as he took a sheet of paper with the word "Portkey" written on it off the table.  "You do know how to do this?  You have to be touching the paper – "

            "Yes, I know."  Erin reached out to hold onto one corner of the paper, and Lianne and Sirius did the same.  "I've… heard of these things before."

            "Ah."  Remus nodded, apparently figuring that Lianne had explained.  "Twenty-eight seconds, then."

            Erin bit her lip, listening to Remus count while Lianne occasionally called out a random number to throw him off.  _I've "heard of" Portkeys.  Right, that's true enough.  I've heard of dinosaurs, but that doesn't mean I belong in a world where they exist.  And it sure doesn't mean I should be riding one._

            "I told you to turn left there."

            "Will you be quiet?"  Remus narrowed his eyes at Lianne.  "We would never have gotten lost in the first place if you hadn't tried to help."

            "Calm down, you two," Erin broke in, alarmed.  "We're here now."

            "Yes, so it appears.  Hello, Lianne, Remus, Sirius.  Who might this young lady be?"

            Erin turned to look at the speaker with a start.  A tall old man whose long beard and hair were both snow white stood at the gate to the front yard of the house.  She'd never even heard him approach – assuming he hadn't simply appeared there, which he certainly could have.

            "Hi, Dumbledore."  Lianne smiled brightly.  "This is my friend, Erin Connor.  Erin, this is Albus Dumbledore."

            "I'd guessed."  Erin shook Dumbledore's hand politely.  "Hello."

            "Hello, Miss Connor."  Dumbledore studied her questioningly over the tops of his spectacles.  "Honored as I am to make your acquaintance, I hope Lianne did not bring you merely so I might have the pleasure."

            "No, sir."  Erin looked away from the older wizard, feeling unaccountably shy.  "I've been… rather forced to stay with her."

            Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted, but he didn't ask anything more.  "Why don't you all come in, then?  We've gathered in the back yard."

            Rather than going through the house, Dumbledore led them around by a rambling stone path Erin hadn't noticed before.  As they walked, she began to feel slightly nauseous, a headache beginning to pound at her temples.  Not wanting to bother anyone, she tried to act normally as the feelings worsened – but when she stumbled sideways into Remus and half-fell to her knees, that got everyone's attention.

            "Erin?  What's wrong?"  Remus dropped down beside her, eyes wide in alarm.

            "I – I don't know."  Erin swallowed hard.  "I just… started feeling sick…"

            Something small and wooden lightly touched her temple.  Erin looked up with a start to see Dumbledore removing his wand, just as she realized the sickness was gone.  Dumbledore, meanwhile, had a very odd expression on his face.

            "My apologies, Miss Connor," he said, frowning.  "I wasn't aware you were a Muggle."  He looked at Lianne.  "You certainly have some explaining to do, Lianne."

            "I'll agree with that."  A crotchety-looking old woman, the one who had spoken, was standing with a rather roly-poly, pink-faced man and a plump lady whose silver hair looked out of place on her relatively young face.  "Just who have you brought here, Mrs. Black?"

            "Everything will be explained at the meeting, Arabella," Dumbledore said soothingly, cutting Lianne off.  "You know the policy as well as I.  We don't discuss issues in groups directly beforehand."

            "Well, then hurry up."  Arabella looked down her nose at the four people with Dumbledore, then turned on her heel to head back into the yard, using a polished dark brown walking stick to help with her slight limp.

            "You'll have to forgive Arabella," the younger woman said, with a smile that warmed her tired eyes.  "She doesn't realize what a grouch she sounds like.  Nice to see you again, Li."

            "Hi, Ellie."  Lianne grinned.  "Things going well at the hospital?"

            The brightness left Ellie's eyes.  "No," she said shortly.  "I think I'll go on back, now.  See how Arabella and the rest are doing."  She disappeared around the side of the house, followed by the round man.

            "Did I say something wrong?" Lianne wondered, surprised.

            "You'll understand later," Dumbledore assured her.  "Erin, I'm sure you realize I can't allow you to hear what goes on until the Aurors decide you are trustworthy.  Would you mind waiting inside?  I have a warded room you can stay in."

            "Oh – that'd be fine," Erin said, shrugging.  Not that it mattered or anything, but from the look on Sirius's face, she got the distinct feeling that the wards on these rooms were meant more to keep her safely in, than to keep others out.

            "She's perfectly trustworthy, you know," Lianne said indignantly, the moment Dumbledore closed Erin in the warded room he used for some of his more dangerous spell-castings.  "You don't need to lock her up like some sort of prisoner!"

            "I don't know, Li."  It was Sirius, to Lianne's surprise, who spoke up.  "I mean, _I trust her, but we're Aurors here.  It's our job to be paranoid.  I'm still amazed they let me in with so little fuss."_

            Dumbledore smiled.  "Those three have been reeducated, concerning you.  Some others may put up more of a struggle, but the larger part of our council knows the truth of your story."  He looked around at them.  "Shall we proceed out?"

            It was a pleasantly warm day, so chairs had been set up in a circle in Dumbledore's rather large backyard, amid blooming flowers, some of which were apparently unaware that they were out of season.  Swirling mists in place of a fence provided a lovely silver backdrop, as well as being chock-full of protective charms, as they surely were.  The group gathered there, however, seemed mostly unaware of the beauty of its surroundings.

            Much to her surprise, Lianne found that she didn't recognize several of the people there.  _Teach me to think I know all about the Aurors, just because I'm married to one, she thought ruefully.  She knew Ellie and Arabella, of course, and Mad-Eye Moody.  Mundungus Fletcher she knew by sight, the man who'd come out with Ellie and Arabella, though they'd never been introduced.  A balding red-haired man sat in the back talking quietly to a blue-eyed illusionist, Serena something-or-other.  A tiny Indian man, the only one at all interested in the garden, was examining one of the rose bushes while a pretty brunette tried to get his attention.  Julian Hébert, whom Lianne knew as the unofficial head of the French Aurors, stood speaking with – _

            "Snape?"  Sirius's disgust was evident.  "Does _he have to be here?"_

            "Yes," Dumbledore replied calmly.  "He does.  He is as important to this council as you are, Sirius.  May I remind you that you agreed to a truce?"

            Sirius scowled, but said nothing further.  Lianne was just as glad.  She didn't like Snape much, but she sure didn't feel up to dealing with her husband's temper just then.

            "All right, is everyone here?"  Dumbledore scanned the garden.

            "We're waiting on Miache yet," Ellie told him.

            Hébert rolled his eyes.  "I expect the woman wants to make an entrance.  Typical of her."

            "I say we start without her," Arabella snapped.  "Show the brat she's not the center of the universe."

            "But Madame Figg, I _am ze center of ze universe, am I not?"  A tall young woman with long, strikingly red hair seemed to coalesce out of the hovering mists.  "Please forgive me, Provessor Dumbledore, I did vish to get 'ere sooner."_

            "I'm sure, Miache."  Dumbledore covered a smile with a hand that was almost big enough to do so.  "But in the future, attempt to be more considerate."

            "Of course, of course."  Miache fluttered a graceful hand.  "Now zat we all are 'ere, perhaps ve should begin?"

            "About time, too," Arabella muttered as people drifted to find seats.  Lianne found herself between Sirius and Hébert.

            "It has been many years since our Circle last met," Dumbledore said, once they were all settled.  "Some people have newly joined us, while others return.  Some will never come again.  Yet the Circle itself continues, as does our goal – the destruction of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

            "All of you have been informed, whether by myself or one of my messengers, that Voldemort, as we feared, has indeed risen again.  Some of you have observed things since that time that confirm it, while others of you will see far too much far too soon.  We will each speak presently – but first, allow me to make known one of our former members, whom I see many of you no longer recognize.  Sirius, would you stand up, please?"

            Murmurs rippled around the circle as Sirius stood silently.  Lianne smiled at him sympathetically, knowing how uncomfortable he had to be feeling.  This wasn't the sort of attention he loved.

            "All right, that's enough."  Dumbledore cut the speculations short.  "Yes, for those of you who haven't guessed already – Sirius is innocent, and always was.  Peter Pettigrew is alive, and instrumental in bringing Voldemort back to his full powers."

            "Then why does the news still call him a criminal?" the brunette demanded.

            "Because the media has yet to acknowledge Voldemort's rise," Dumbledore reminded her.  "Or would you like to be the one who writes that story, Trina?"  She blushed, and he continued.  "Sirius, along with his wife, Lianne – " Li waved, " – will be in a sense our errand runners.  Sirius cannot stay long in one place, which makes him ideal for jobs that require frequent motion in any case.  While Lianne cannot move as quickly as Sirius, she doesn't have to worry about visibility."

            "Guess I owe you an apology, then, missie," Moody spoke up, the left side of his face twitching slightly at every noise in the garden.  "You were right about your husband, after all.  Shouldn't've stopped you."

            Lianne shrugged uncomfortably.  "There wasn't much I would've been able to do, anyway."  She tugged Sirius back into his seat and leaned against him, as much for her comfort as for his.

            "Now that you know none of us are going to try to arrest the others," Arabella said, "could we finish up the grandstanding and get on with the meeting?"

            "All in due time."  Dumbledore's eyes glimmered with amusement.  "First, allow me to remind you all that our goal here is to prevent Voldemort from gathering power.  We will do that only but holding firmly together.  Whatever goes on here, please leave your personal feelings out of it.  Vayan, I yield the floor to you."  He sat.

            The Indian man stood up, clearing his throat uneasily.  Public speaking didn't come as naturally to him as it did to the Hogwarts Headmaster.  "Well," he said at last.  "You know me, some of you – I'm Vayan Patel, if you don't – I wasn't here when the Circle last met, so you might not.  I'm a Diviner.  Seer's Guild, you know?  Do stuff for the Ministry.  Or your lot, sometimes – the Aurors.  I worked with the Aurors, mostly.  Kept seeing things the Ministry folk didn't like.  Saw all this – Dark Lord and so on.  Thought I'd better come here and tell you."

            "Tell us what?" Fletcher asked, when the pause grew too long.

            "Dreams," Vayan said, after a moment's hesitation.  "Tea leaves, too.  Lot of danger – not much else really clear through that – a war, too, but not against You-Know-Who.  Shorter.  Over blood.  Important, though.  Thought you should know."  He sat down quickly.  "That's all."

            "What were your dreams, exactly?" Remus asked, frowning.

            "Bad," Vayan told him.  "Bloody.  Scared me."  He refused to say anything more after that, in spite of – or perhaps because of – the pleas and threats that various members of the Circle offered.

            "Well, I don't know much about Patel's war of blood, or whatever it is he thinks he sees," Arabella said, using her walking stick to haul herself to her feet, "but I do know about one thing.  Young Potter.  I'm the one set to watch him, and make sure his defenses don't get too weakened."

            "They haven't broken?" Lianne burst out, horrified.

            "No."  Arabella glared at her.  "Hush.  Boy's completely safe from magic, as far as I can see.  Someone else might want to come by and check that I haven't missed any holes in the wards, if anyone's in the area.  But that's not the point."  She leveled her formidable gaze on Dumbledore.  "Are you aware that those relatives of his _hit him?"_

            This pronouncement caused even more of a stir than Sirius, possibly because Lianne and Sirius themselves were the two most vocal.  It took a full minute before Dumbledore was able to restore order.

            "That's what I thought would happen," Arabella said in satisfaction.  "Well, Albus?  I think some explanations are in order."

            Dumbledore stood, frowning in thought.  At last, he said, "Despite what you may think, Arabella, I did not know Harry's family hits him.  He has never indicated anything of the sort to his friends.  Has Ron mentioned it, Arthur?"

            The red-haired man shook his head.  "I know those… people… don't like Harry much, but I didn't think they'd actually stooped to physical violence."

            "It's a recent development," Arabella admitted.  "I'm not sure what brought it on, but I think he finally stood up to them properly.  I've been waiting years for the boy to do it, but if I'd known what it would lead to I'd've seen that he didn't."

            "Well… that does put things in a new light."  Dumbledore sighed.  "I don't think we dare take him away from his family.  Kinship is a power too old and deep to be broken, and better Harry be in some temporary unhappiness than dead."

            "Suppose he runs away from them?" Sirius demanded angrily.  "Or what if they kill him themselves?  What then?  Is he still better off there?"

            "They already tried to starve him out once," Lianne added, furious.  "And that was before they ever dared lay a hand on him!  He isn't _safe there, Dumbledore!"_

            "Lianne, Sirius, please," the Headmaster began.

            "Is this what you think Lily and James would have wanted for their son?" Remus asked softly.

            Dumbledore stopped, and took a long, deep breath.  "No," he said finally.  "But there is nothing we can do about it now, except try to make the world safer.  I have no doubt Harry would be happier with you three, or Arthur and his family, or even alone at Hogwarts.  But his happiness is not the issue, much as I wish it were.  Harry is a target, and he must be kept safe.  The best place for him is with his relatives.  Unless they themselves force him out of the house, or he leaves voluntarily, he is under a protection with them that very little can break."

            "What if they do throw him out?" Sirius wanted to know.  "Or – more likely – he runs away?  He's done that before, twice."

            "We'll deal with that if it happens," Dumbledore said with a sigh.  "Sirius, we need you to keep in contact with him.  Don't let him know you're aware of what's going on, but make sure he realizes you are available to listen.  And encourage him to stay where he is.  His safety is my first concern, I assure you.  I like this 'lesser' evil no more than anyone else."

            "What do you expect me to do, then?" Arabella grumbled.  "Sit around cooling my heels while the boy gets slapped around by that fat bullying slob he calls uncle?"

            "Keep the Circle informed of the family's doings," Dumbledore said.  "If the situation gets _too bad, I will remove Harry at once.  I promise you that.  Until then, though, visit them often.  Bake them cakes, perhaps, or offer to watch the boys while the aunt and uncle go for a night out.  Make yourself a busybody."_

            "Not zhat _zhat vill be divvicult for her," Miache murmured.  Arabella shot the young woman a suspicious glance, but said nothing, apparently not having heard clearly._

            "Miache?  Would you like to speak?"  Dumbledore gave her a very pointed look.

            She, however, took the comment at face value.  "Yes, actually, I believe I vould."  She started to stand, then stopped.  "But perhaps Julian 'ad better begin?"

            Hébert stood, shrugging an apology to the rest of the Circle.  "You did ask her, Albus.  You've no one to blame but yourself."  He looked at the people seated around him, carefully meeting each person's eyes.  "Well, for those of you who don't know much about the current situation in France, I suppose I'd better give you some background.  Who's heard of the Ganrou Clan?  Or how about the Cruentes Tribe?"

            Most people looked blank, but Trina, the brunette who'd asked about the media, spoke up.  "They're rivals, aren't they?  Vampires and werewolves, I'm not sure which group is which, but don't they have some long feud going?  Down at the _Prophet office – well, I don't cover the foreign news, but I heard the editors discussing running another story on it.  They said things were coming to a head?"_

            "Yes, that's right," Hébert agreed.  "The son of the alpha male of the Ganrou Clan – that's the head werewolf, for those of you unacquainted with their culture – has stated his intention to marry the vampire queen's niece, who is the current heiress to the Cruentes Tribe.  The feud itself does date much further back, of course – I believe it stemmed from the Revolution, when Robbespierre took it into his head to begin staking the vampires, and the werewolves agreed to help, violating the Treaty of Caedens.

            "Normally, we would allow such things to be sorted out by the two groups themselves.  But the circumstances are hardly normal.  He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has made an offer to the Cruentes, and may later make one to the Ganrou – his support in their battle, in return for their support in his.  Miache will explain the details, and fill in what I've left out.  If you would, lady?"

            Miache smiled, and rose.  "I vould be glad to.  So.  Before I speak, allow me to establish my… per'aps 'credentials' vould be ze best term.  For zhose of you who 'ave not already guessed – I am a vampire.  Miache Sanguinis, of ze Order of ze Phoenix."

            Unlike the people around him – Lianne, for example, or Sirius – Remus did not react strongly to Miache's startling declaration.  He'd known she was _something, when he first saw her.  Dark creatures could usually sense each other.  And he'd known she wasn't a werewolf.  A banshee had been his guess, but a vampire fit better._

            Quite a powerful vampire, too, if she was to be believed.  The Order of the Phoenix was the highest vampire caste, out of thirteen.  Phoenixes were rare, yes… but she'd been sitting in direct sunlight all this time, wearing only that light dress that didn't seem to cover nearly enough of her for decency, without so much as a twitch.  Of course, the least powerful caste – the Mouse – could stay in direct sunlight as well, but that was for the opposite reason.  The Order of the Mouse had very few abilities beyond the vampire norm – though that was as much as any powerful witch or wizard.  Phoenixes, on the other hand… well, Remus wouldn't want to get on Miache's bad side.

            When the Circle was quiet enough to allow Miache to speak again – and Remus noted with interest she'd made no effort to curb the sensation she'd made – she began.  "Yes, I know I 'ave just lost ze trust of several of you, but it is necessary for you to understand.  I 'ave been an informant for Julian for – 'ow many years now?"

            Hébert smiled.  "Too many for a poor mortal to care to think about."

            Miache laughed.  "Yes, I suppose it vould be.  Vell, I live in ze court of ze Cruentes, and I see most of vhat goes on zhere.  And I 'ave been zhinking – Queen Desdemona must vin zhis battle with ze volf clan if she is to keep 'er prestige.  Appearance is important to ze vampire people.  If ze queen loses face, she may lose 'er throne as vell."

            "And you think she's considering this offer from Voldemort?" Moody asked, when Miache paused.

            "I _know she is," Miache corrected him.  "She 'as never been more zhan ze Order of ze Cobra, and zhat was in her prime.  She is barely a Scorpion any longer, and zhat is because no one dares to demote the queen."_

            On hearing that, Remus winced in sympathy for Desdemona.  Scorpion was the tenth level of power, and while it was more than most vampires, the queen would have little control over her higher-ranking subjects.  If the battle against the werewolves went poorly for her, she'd likely lose more than her throne.

            "So what should we be doing?" Fletcher asked.  "If the Cruentes have gone over to You-Know-Who, then – "

            "Ah, but I did not say ze _Cruentes 'ave gone over," Miache corrected him.  "It is ze queen 'oo considers a secret alliance vith zhis Dark Lord of yours.  Ze Cruentes zhemselves 'ave yet to make up zheir minds._

            "Ze tribe is in a divvicult position, you see.  Zhey cannot allow zheir heiress to marry zhis… volf… but zhey do not 'ave ze military strength for an all-out var.  Ze volves vould defeat zhem, and ze ozzer vampire tribes vould finish 'ooever vas left off, or absorb zhem into zheir own tribes.  No tribe so disgraced by a defeat by non-vampires vould be permitted to continue existing."

            "Then why not just let the girl marry the boy and be done with it?" Arabella demanded impatiently.

            "And lose face with the other tribes?"  Hébert answered for Miache.  "That would lead to the tribe's eventual destruction as well.  Besides, who would rule the Cruentes, or the Ganrou?  Somehow, I don't see a joint government working too well."

            "Exactly."  Miache nodded.  "Now, some of my people zhink to outsmart zhis Voldemort.  Ozzers wish to zhrow zheir lot in wiz 'im, while yet anozzer group vould avoid 'im at all costs."

            "Which group are you?" Snape asked suspiciously.

            Miache smiled, her fangs glinting in the sunlight as she spoke.  "Ze fourth group – ze vuns 'oo vould attack.  I believe zhat your Voldemort vill not stop vith Britain.  'E vill finish vith you, and come for us.  Any promises 'e makes to my people vill not stop 'im.  Vhich is vhy I 'ave come 'ere – to make a proposal to you."

            "Actually, that's why _we have come," Hébert added.  "The Ganrou-Cruentes conflict has been a major instability factor in France for a long time, and anything that happens to them affects us.  Not to mention the fact that giving You-Know-Who a foothold in France would be a very bad idea."_

            "Indeed," Dumbledore agreed.  "And what is it you suggest we do?"

            "Send a delegation of your own," Miache replied.  "Oh, not openly – your Ministry vould 'ardly stand for zhat.  But under some pretense, send vun of your – Aurors, are zhey called? – to try to vin ze queen over to your camp.  Ze Cruentes are powerful yet, despite zhese… divviculties."

            "And also, if you have enough Aurors you'd trust on such a mission," Hébert said, "it might be a good idea to send another delegation to the Ganrou, to get ahead of the Dark Lord.  If you could secure their allegiance, you might even be able to ease the tensions of the battle."

            "All right, then," Dumbledore said.  "We'll discuss it, then put the issue to a vote.  The floor is open.  Yes, Ellie, go ahead."

            Ellie stood up.  "Well, most of you know the situation at the hospitals," she said quietly.  "Ever since the incident at the Quidditch World Cup, last summer, there's been a dramatic increase in people wounded by the Dark Arts.  But, more than anything else, there have been vampire bites.  Not the sort to Change a person, but the drinking sort."

            Remus paled, feeling sick.  Over the last century, the vampire tribes had been signing treaties with the human governments of the countries they lived in, not to kill humans, in return for various other rights, differing from tribe to tribe.  Though many of those treaties had been broken during Voldemort's reign, they had all been renewed.  He'd thought – he'd hoped – the fears could be eased at last.  But if the treaties were being violated, again, there was very little room for misinterpretation.

            "So I think I've got to speak against this," the tired-looking Healer said.  "It's too dangerous.  Meaning no offense, Miache, but it looks like at least some of the vampires have already gone back over to You-Know-Who.  There are few enough of us here as it is.  I don't think we can afford to lose even one person to a rogue vampire, for the sake of negotiations that may lead to nothing."

            As people nodded thoughtfully, Dumbledore indicated that Moody could speak.  "Well," the old Auror began, "you say that going to see these vampires would be unsafe.  But since when have vampires _ever been safe?  Better to have them for us than against us."_

            "We could send the wrong message if we don't respond," Arthur added.  "They could very well be waiting to see what we're going to do.  If we do nothing, they might assume we don't care, and join the Dark ranks."

            "Suppose they've agreed to this alliance already," Snape pointed out.  "It could be a trap to weaken our forces.  Vampires are not known for their candor."

            Miache glared at him in indignation.  "Just _vhat are you suggesting?"_

            "Albus, please keep your Aurors under control!" Hébert snapped, when Snape merely glowered at the vampire.

            "I'm not an Auror," Snape snarled.  "And I am merely stating what seems to have slipped everyone else's minds."

            "I come 'ere bringing you aid, and _zhis is 'ow you – "_

            "Auror or not, you, sir, are – "

            "Severus, that really is – "

            "_Silence."_

            That one word, spoken by the quiet Indian diviner, got the Circle's attention infinitely more effectively than everyone's shouting had.  Vayan was on his feet, arms loose at his sides, a look of mild reproach on his face, as a tired mother looks at bickering children from across a room.

            "You argue," he said softly.  "You yell.  But nothing is happening.  Time is wasted.  Now is not the time for yelling.  Or talking.  Now I call for a vote."

            "I'll second it," Remus called out, before anyone could object.

            Dumbledore nodded gravely, and those who had stood in anger returned grumbling to their seats.  "All right, then.  All in favor of an attempt?"  Most hands went up.  "All opposed?"  Only Ellie, Snape, and Fletcher.  "Then it's settled.  Two delegations, one to each group.  Who is to be sent?"

            "Why not send Black's wife?" Arabella suggested.  "After all, you did make a point of saying how she's going to be our errand runner."

            "Well… I guess I could," Lianne said slowly, when everyone turned to look at her.  "I don't have much experience with vampires, though.  And I haven't any idea what reason I could have to go to a vampire tribe.  It's not something artists really do much."

            "Oh, are you an artist?" Miache asked.  "Zhen zhat is simple.  All vampires are vain.  Merely offer your services as a portrait artist.  Several of ze middle levels of power cannot see zhemselves in zheir mirrors, or in photographs, and vould gladly pay to be painted.  You do paint, I assume?"

            "Watercolors, mostly," Lianne confirmed.  "I can use acrylics or oils, but I'm not as good with them."

            "Perfect."  Miache smiled.  "You 'ave an excuse already."

            "Well, yes, but – "

            Lianne was drowned out as Hébert asked, "But what of the werewolves?"

            Remus sighed.  He'd known it would come to this, and he supposed he might as well get it over with.  "I'll go."  Heads turned to him.  He'd been very quiet so far, and most of them had probably forgotten his presence.  "I mean, I might as well.  I'll fit right in, after all."

            "Are you a werewolf, then?" Trina asked, interested.

            Remus sighed.  Now they were all staring at him.  _As though I'm some sort of circus sideshow.  No one stared at Miache that way.  __Of course, making a vampire feel uncomfortable is somewhat more dangerous than doing so with a werewolf.  Unless it's a full moon…_

            "Yes," he said softly, when the pause had gone on too long.  "Most unfortunately."  He shrugged.  "Well, anyway, all I have to do is claim I have family there, or something along those lines.  They won't suspect another wolf.  We trust our own kind."  He tried to keep the bitterness out of his words, tried not to show how he wished it were any other way than it was.  Wishing had never done him any good yet.

            "Then if that's settled – "

            "No," Lianne interrupted.  "No, it's not."  Everyone turned to look at her curiously.  "If I go, Erin has to come, and I don't know if you'd want her to."

            "Erin?  She's that girl you brought with you?"  Arabella gave Li a very disapproving look.

            "Yes," Lianne said.  "I know it looks bad, but I wouldn't normally bring someone to a secret meeting.  It's just – well, Erin's got some pretty unusual circumstances, and Remus and I thought it might just be relevant to what's going on here."

            "Oh?"  Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.  "Exactly how do you mean?"

            "Well," Lianne began, "when I was over at Remus's house, Erin just out of the blue came up to the door.  She wasn't sure how she got there – as far as she knew, she was still in America – and she's not a witch, before you ask.  She's a Muggle that I knew before I went to Hogwarts."

            "Bit young, isn't she?" Snape sneered.

            "Yes, I'm getting to that."  Lianne glared at him.  "This girl is the same Erin Connor I knew way back when, but before I left, she was three years older than me.  According to her, I disappeared without a word several days ago.  And then, when I went to take her back to America, we couldn't find her house.  Or her family.  Or anything.  And Remus and I thought it sounded like Dark magic."

            "That it does, missie," Moody agreed thoughtfully.  "It might be related to the current situation, or it might not… but it doesn't sound like normal happenings for a Muggle girl, and anything out of the ordinary right now has to be under suspicion."

            "But why would she have to come with you?" Fletcher asked, puzzled.

            "Because she has nowhere else to go," Remus answered quietly, before Li could say anything.  "She has no home, not anymore.  Would _you leave a teenage girl, Muggle or witch, alone in a strange country without a place to stay, a job, or even any money?"_

            "Do you really think she ought to go to the vampires, though?" Trina asked dubiously.  "They're tough for even our kind to deal with."

            "I'd hate to see such a nice girl get bitten," Ellie agreed.

            "Why not bring her out here and talk to her?" Arthur suggested.  "Maybe, if she can't go to the vampires, she'll at least have some ideas about where she could stay for a few weeks."

            Erin had been flipping distractedly through one of the magazines Dumbledore had left for her to amuse herself with ("Soft Silky Skin in Just Three Easy Spells!" and "Color-Changing Nail Polish For All Occasions!" were heavily featured; Erin wasn't sure she wanted to know exactly why Dumbledore had this magazine in the first place), when Lianne opened the door and brought her outside.  The Aurors made her tell them about arriving at Remus's house, and what had happened after.

            Fortunately, they didn't seem particularly interested in the Knight Bus.  Erin didn't really want to explain to anyone about her letters from Remus, so she made up something about Stacey tracing Lianne, instead.  The Circle accepted that as one of the few normal aspects of the whole ordeal, and Lianne – the only one to know the entire story – didn't choose to enlighten them.

            Li probably felt sorry for Erin.  The downside of the fact that the questioning almost completely ignored the Knight Bus episode was that they were focusing on some still-painful mental wounds.  Telling them about it made Erin relive wandering around Baltimore with Lianne, seeing all the familiar landmarks around the area that should have held her house.  But her home hadn't been there.  Instead of the small but cozy house with horrible lacy curtains her Aunt Charlotte had made and the slightly wilting blue hydrangea bushes, the two yards on either side of her own were also bought out.  The three together had been covered by a huge, sprawling monster of a house, elegant and soulless.  She hadn't even bothered to go with Li to knock on the door.  She'd known what they'd find.

            "You're sure you couldn't just have gotten lost, perhaps?" the man introduced as Fletcher asked.  "I often find myself looking for my glasses, then realize I've just put them on."

            "A house is a little harder to misplace than a pair of glasses."  The greasy-haired man that Erin had just _known had to be Snape scowled in her direction.  "However, it is possible the girl was enchanted to __believe her house was gone."_

            "I was there, too!" Lianne protested.

            "Yes, Mrs. Black, I am well aware of that.  However, we all know of your… interesting tendency to see only what you wish."  Snape sneered in her direction.

            "Don't you _dare insult Lianne!" Sirius snarled._

            "Sirius!  Severus!"  Dumbledore sternly eyed both of them.  "Might I remind you of your promise of a truce?"

            "But he said – "

            "I was only pointing out – "

            "Oh, shut up already," Arabella snapped irritably.  Sirius and Snape, wearing almost identical expressions of indignation, fell silent.  "Thank goodness."

            "All right, Erin," Trina said.  "What Professor Snape said aside, let's assume for a moment that you really can't get home.  Is there anywhere you could stay for a couple weeks?"

            "You mean… other than with Lianne?"  Erin shook her head.  "Not that I can think of.  I mean, we looked everywhere either of us could think of, but we couldn't find anyone we knew.  I tried the telephone, but it says that number was disconnected.  Letters by owl just come right back unopened, and letters through the post office get marked 'Return to Sender.'  I don't know where any of my family's gone – not my mother, not my father, not even my cousin, Hazel.  They just – disappeared."  She swallowed hard.

            "But people can't just disappear," Ellie said, in a would-be reasonable tone.  "There has to be a – a body, at least, or _something."_

            "Well, there wasn't," Erin snapped.  "There was nothing.  It was like they'd never existed.  Like my whole life had never existed…"  _I am not going to cry in front of these people, she told herself sternly, forcing herself not to sob.  __I am not__._

            "Aren't you being somewhat melodramatic?"  Snape raised an eyebrow.  "All right, you were unable to locate your family.  What a pity.  I can name half a dozen spells that could make you think exactly that had happened.  It's mildly Dark magic, yes, but the group we're dealing with prefers the 'sudden death' approach.  I believe that what we have here is an overly-excitable little girl who likely as not ran away, and made up her whole story to get sympathy – "

            "I did not!" Erin cried angrily.

            Lianne and Sirius, as well as a few others in the Circle, were protesting loudly enough to drown each other out.  But Remus, eyes narrowed, stood up, walked across the circle of chairs, and halted about six inches away from the professor.

            "Shut up."

            Erin, standing in the middle of the circle, heard the quiet menace in Remus's words.  Perhaps Trina and Vayan, on either side of Snape, heard as well.  Or perhaps not, as most of the Circle had descended into a shouting match – the Free Speech faction versus the Anti-Snape faction.  Erin could easily have been the only one who even noticed that Remus had left his seat.  He returned as quietly as he had gone, smiling gently at her a moment, before catching himself and looking away.

            The warm glow his smile brought didn't quite chase away the painful lump in her throat, or the burning behind her eyes.  It couldn't.

            But it did help.

            "I can't believe they won't let me go with you to the vampires," Sirius grumbled as they returned to Remus's house, several hours later.  "Or at least the werewolves."

            "You have to stay in hiding," Lianne told him firmly.  "That means not drawing attention.  And _that means staying away from closely observed places – like vampire-werewolf battlefields."_

            "Besides, Dumbledore himself said they need human messengers they can trust," Remus pointed out.  "There are some things too important to entrust to owls.  Or toucans, either," he added, when Li opened her mouth.

            "I just don't like sending two unprotected women to a tribe of vampires that may or may not have violated their anti-killing treaties!" Sirius objected.

            "We won't be alone," Erin said reasonably.  "Remus will be a mile away, at most.  Besides, Miache will be there."

            "Miache's a vampire, too," Sirius said sourly.

            "Oh.  Really?"  Erin frowned.  "Well, we won't be alone, anyway."

            "Erin's right, Sirius," Lianne said.  "We'll be fine.  It'll be just as safe as staying here."

            "Why do you think I'm so worried?" Sirius asked with a sigh.  "You remember everything we learned about defending against vampires?"

            "Of course."  Lianne frowned.  "Erin doesn't know any of it, though."

            "I'll be fine."  Erin shrugged.  "Stake through the heart, right?"

            "Um."  Sirius glanced at Remus.  "Why don't you give her a crash course, Moony?"

            "Me?  Why me?" Remus asked.

            "Because you're the resident Defense Against the Dark Arts genius, that's why," Sirius reminded him.  "Besides, Li and I have to sort through the clothes she bought me and see how much of it needs resizing.  Or, depending how awful, returning."  He grinned at her as she swatted at his head.

            "Well… all right, fine."  Remus looked at Erin.  "It should only take an hour or so for you to learn the basics.  It's simple enough to learn how to ward off vampires, it's only doing it in actuality that's hard."

            "Ok, sure," Erin agreed as Sirius and Lianne headed upstairs.  She seated herself on the couch, and Remus chose a chair opposite her, rather than sitting beside her as he would have liked.  "So what was wrong with a stake through the heart?"

            "For one thing, you're unlikely to have a stake at hand," Remus said dryly.  "Would you attack someone standing within arm's reach of a loaded gun"

            "Good point," Erin said.  "So what _should I do?"_

            "Well, it depends on what the problem is, and what you're trying to do about it," Remus told her.  "If a vampire grabs you and pulls one of their levitating tricks, your objective is _not to make him let go.  But if he's trying to bite your throat, letting go is definitely what you want from him.  Follow me so far?"_

            Erin nodded.  "Yep."

            "All right.  Well, you don't want to kill this vampire, because you just might anger one of his relatives, or possibly the whole tribe.  Revenge is a high priority, with vampires.  You want him to leave you alone.  Garlic is the standard repellent, but if you want to deal with a non-threatening vampire, wearing a clove of garlic around your neck can get a bit awkward."

            "It affects all the vampires in its presence?" Erin asked, interested.

            "Yes, of course."  Remus nodded.  "It's the smell vampires can't bear – and the taste, though few of them get close enough to eat the stuff.  Depending on how powerful a vampire is, and on how much garlic they eat, it can even be poisonous."

            "So what works, other than garlic?"

            "Well," Remus said, hoping she didn't notice his sudden discomfort, "a lot of people assume that silver helps against vampires, because it works on werewolves.  It doesn't.  Iron is very effective, though, and that's what I'd recommend for you.  Being in the presence of iron won't affect the vampire unless you surround him with it, as in a cage, for example.  But physical contact will burn the vampire – any vampire, no matter how powerful."

            "So… if I have some iron in my pocket, or something, I should take it out and touch the vampire with it?"  Erin rummaged through her pockets.  "I don't think I've got anything iron."

            "Well, we'll find something before we go."  Remus glanced around his living room, then shook his head.  "Maybe Lianne has something.  At any rate, as I said, doing what you've just suggested is hardly that easy."

            "What do you mean?"

            "Vampires are fast.  Much, much faster than a human could ever be."  Remus sighed.  "Maybe Sirius is right, and this is a bad idea.  You'd probably never even get a chance to defend yourself."

            "I thought we had to go," Erin said, frowning.  "Or, Lianne does, and I have to go with her.  Isn't it only for a few weeks?"

            "Yes, I suppose," Remus said reluctantly.  "I'm just a natural worrier."  He shook his head.  "Well, here.  Let me show you how a vampire would be most likely to come at you.  They almost always do it the same way, and some ways of fighting them off work better in that position that others."  
            "Ok."  Erin stood up.  "How should I stand?"

            "You're fine as you are," Remus told her.  "Just don't move."  He got up to walk around behind her.  "Now, if I were a real vampire, this would be your first mistake.  _Never let a vampire stand behind you.  It could be perfectly innocent, but it sets you up for what I'm about to do."_

            "What are you about to do?" Erin asked without turning.

            "Nothing."  Then, without warning, he pounced forward and pinned her arms to her sides.  "Lesson two – don't believe a vampire when he says he's not planning anything.  _Especially if you can't see him."_

            "I think I'll remember, somehow," Erin said.  "Now what?"

            "Now is when you bend your right arm at the elbow – or the left, depending on which way I'm leaning – and thrust the iron you are hopefully holding into my face."  Remus swallowed hard.  He really hoped neither Sirius nor Li took it into their heads to come downstairs right now.  To all appearances, he was embracing Erin from behind.  It did _not look good.  __Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all._

            "What if I'm not holding any iron?" Erin pointed out.  "If I let you get behind me, it means I must trust you at least a little."

            "My first advice would be not to trust _any vampires," Remus replied.  "But that's a good point.  Maybe we could find something made of iron you'd have a reason to hold all the time.  That way, you wouldn't have to worry about trying to get something out of your pocket without the vampire you're with noticing."_

            "Yes, but what would happen?" Erin persisted.

            "You want to know what the vampire would do?"  She nodded.  "Well, he'd lean forward a little, while pulling you back towards him."  Remus showed her.  "If he hasn't levitated you first, you can slide down out of his grip at that point.  But if you don't do that, then he'd tilt his head to your neck."  Remus did so, slowly.  Erin had a very pretty neck – _no, keep yourself focused, Moony.  You're teaching her to fight off vampires.  She doesn't need to fight off a werewolf, too._

            "And then he'd bite me?" Erin asked, turning her head to face him.

            "Now that," Remus said, "is just about the worst thing you can do."

            "What, asking questions?" Erin asked, confused.

            "No.  Looking me in the eyes.  Vampires can hypnotize, if you look at them directly.  Even the lowest power levels can do a little."  Remus tried to look away, but her eyes still held his.  It occurred to him that vampires weren't the only ones able to cast a spell of captivation.

            "And then?" Erin asked softly, her face still turned towards him.

            He didn't mean to do it.  He'd thought he had himself under control.  He didn't even realize what he was doing, until he'd already leaned forward and brought his mouth to hers.

            She stiffened in shock, just for an instant, before the tension left her and she leaned against him.  She wasn't an experienced kisser, especially, but there was something about the way she felt in his arms that was just… perfect.

            Part of him wanted to stay there, kissing her forever.  However, it was his more rational side that won out.  Remus pulled away sharply, as if he'd just found he was kissing a snake.

            "What – "  Erin's eyes snapped open.  "Remus – did I do something wrong?"

            "No.  _No."  Remus shook his head, quickly letting go of her and stepping away.  "Erin, I am very sorry, I've no idea what came over me."_

            "Oh, no, don't – "

            He overrode her protests.  "I take the entire responsibility myself, and I do apologize.  I promise you, I will not do anything of the kind ever again."

            "But Remus – "

            "I think maybe Sirius or Lianne had better be the one to finish instructing you," he cut her off again, aware he was being rude, but afraid to hear what she might say to him.  "I need to go pack.  We're leaving early in the morning."

            Still without listening to her, Remus hurried up the staircase.  And almost knocked Sirius over at the top.

            "That was stupid," his friend informed him.

            "It's none of your business," Remus said with an air of finality.

            "How is it not my business when you make as huge a mistake as – oh, why am I bothering?"  Sirius sighed.  "You just aren't going to listen to reason, are you?"

            "You are _hardly what I would call the voice of reason," Remus snapped._

            "Point," Sirius conceded.  "But at least I have eyes."

            "What?"  Remus just knew he was going to regret asking, the instant the words left his mouth.

            "She's in love with you, Moony," Sirius said soberly.  "And I think you're in love with her, if you'd only admit it."  He sighed again.  "And you're just going to let her think you don't care."

            "Maybe I don't," Remus said, his voice getting decidedly colder.

            Sirius watched sadly as the werewolf pushed past.  "Sure, Remus.  If that's what you want to believe."

Author's Note:  It's done.  Wow. *falls on the floor in a faint*  I'm amazed.  I thought I'd never finish, I really did.  It was those stupid Aurors and their meeting.  At least I don't have to deal with them again for a while.  Oh, and brownie points to anyone who caught the "self" insertion.

Disclaimer:  I own pretty much nothing.  For explanations of who owns what specifically, see the previous parts.  Several of the Aurors, however (Ellie, Miache, Vayan, Trina, and Julian) are mine.  The lyrics are from "Crash and Burn" by Savage Garden.

Thank you to all the wonderful people who have reviewed this!:  Miss Liss, nycgal, EmmaCF, Ginavere, PseudieLee, Jessica, Calbee, Jami, Clayr, Weaver, Annabel Lee.  You know that I love you all!

Zhai'helleva!

Mysti


	12. White As Snow

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  Ok, yet another apology for lateness.  I had to create the settings and cultures for this one, though, so it took quite a lot longer than I'd planned.  I'm sorry, I really did think I'd be done sooner.

**_Part 11 – White As Snow_**

**Chapter 20**

_When you feel all alone_

_And a loyal friend is hard to find_

_You're caught in a one-way street_

_With the monsters in your head_

            "This is where the vampires live?" Erin asked in surprise.  "I didn't expect anything so… well, so pretty."

            Remus didn't say anything.  Of course, he could have told her that vampires liked the forests because the sunlight had to filter through the tree branches to get to them… but he hadn't spoken to her since immediately after he'd kissed her yesterday.  He'd thought about trying to break the silence with trivial comments, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

            "It _is pretty here," Lianne admitted.  Of all of them, she was having the worst time of it, trying to get into the deep woods.  "But I really think I wouldn't mind defacing nature, just a little, if it meant a nice paved road."_

            At least there was a path.  Remus hadn't expected even that much, but he supposed humans came here from time to time.  The path was probably made for the benefit of the French Aurors.  Not many other people would use a path where one of the upcoming forks led to a werewolf clan, the other to a vampire tribe.

            Miache would meet them at the fork in the road, and guide the two women on from there.  Apparently, there were some places humans couldn't pass without a vampire's aid.  Remus would then go on alone, to try to talk his way into the wolf clan.

            _I wish I had a better idea what I was going to say, he thought.  He'd gotten about as far as "Hi, I'm Remus Lupin," before reaching a complete blank.  He had some vague ideas of asking for the wolf who'd bitten him, or some such, but he was mostly depending on a sudden brilliant flash of inspiration.  Which did not appear to be forthcoming._

            "So, you've got your mirrors?" Lianne asked again.

            "In my purse," Erin confirmed.

            Remus just nodded with a sigh.  The mirrors, as Lianne would insist on calling them, were not in fact mirrors.  They were communications devices, a very thin sheet of ice encased in glass with four tiny crystals meant to face in each of the cardinal directions.  Dumbledore had produced them from somewhere in his house, before the meeting had ended, so that the three could keep in touch with each other, as well as with Dumbledore himself.  Eventually, they'd have to figure out a way to meet in person, but the enchantment on the ice would serve till then.

            "So you're bound and determined not to talk, then, are you?" Lianne said conversationally, as the silence grew too long.  Remus didn't respond, but he did notice Erin starting to turn red.  "You're being very rude."

            "Lianne, don't," Erin tried to interrupt.

            "Well, he is," Li insisted.  "He's throwing a temper tantrum."

            Remus glared at her, but there wasn't much he could say to that.  He supposed he _was throwing a tantrum, or at least coming closer to it than he had in years.  But he didn't know what else to do.  He couldn't act like things were just normal – everyone __knew they weren't, and he was a terrible actor anyway.  And he didn't dare try to talk it over with Erin.  He was sure she couldn't possibly be in love with him – she'd known him less than two weeks! – but he was horribly afraid she'd confused herself into thinking she was.  A teenage crush wouldn't have been so bad – except that he still liked her, quite a lot.  And if she kissed him again, he didn't know if he'd be able to keep himself from responding._

            So he just refused to deal with her.  He didn't see any other choice.  She'd get over it, and so would he, with time.  And if it made Lianne think he was acting like a five-year-old… well, that was just a price he had to pay.

            Remus was so deep in his thoughts he didn't even notice they'd reached the fork in the road until Miache's voice stopped him.

            "Vell, vell, you are early.  I did not expect you for fifteen minutes yet."  The vampire, lounging against the sign marking the beginnings of the two new trails, stood out from her surroundings very distinctly.  Her long hair was the only bright thing about her, a deep striking scarlet that was closer to the color of fresh blood than the usual carrot red of hair.  Her skin was still unnaturally pale, and she wore a shimmering white dress that _had to be enchanted to stay clean.  Remus wondered briefly if the skin color was fake; she wore enough other makeup.  Her eyes were done up with heavy eyeliner and mascara, and her mouth was a glinting black._

            Apparently, she noticed him staring.  "Vhen at 'ome, I prefer to dress somevhat more traditionally," she said, smiling just enough to show her fangs.  "Perhaps you vould razzer come vith me to ze vampires now?"

            "No, thank you!"  Remus didn't mean to sound as alarmed as he did, and promptly blushed.  Miache frightened him a little, he had to admit.  He could just about take her without the makeup, dressed relatively normally.  But this way… he was just glad he was going in the opposite direction.

            "Bye, then, Remus."  Lianne, to his surprise, came over to give him a hug goodbye.  "You be careful, ok?"

            "You, too, Li.  Sirius'll never forgive me if I don't bring you back in one piece."  Remus smiled at her, both gently teasing and warning.  He was pretty sure he didn't need to worry too much about Erin – not that he'd let that stop him – but Lianne often had difficulties with things like common sense.  She was the one who was more likely to do something stupid.

            "I'll be fine, Remus, don't worry."  She smiled one last time, then stepped aside.

            Remus froze as Erin hesitantly approached.  "Bye, Remus," she said, after an awkward pause.  "Um… be careful."

            "You too."  Remus paused warily, but she didn't seem to be about to say anything more.  "I'll see you when we leave, then."

            "Yeah.  See you."  Erin turned to go.  Then she turned back and darted forward.  Her lips touched his cheek, just for a moment, before she stepped away.  He was still wondering what to say when Miache, grinning broadly, led the two women away down the right hand path.

            Eventually, he shook himself, and started down the left fork.  This was not the time to get distracted.  He should be planning what he would say to be let into the clan's land.  He should be thinking about the best way to get to speak with the alpha male.  He shouldn't be thinking about Erin's shy smile of parting, or the feel of her soft lips against his cheek, or how warm her body had felt in his arms yesterday, or – 

            "Will you stop already?  Honestly, what part of 'halt' don't you understand?"

            Remus snapped out of his daze, cursing himself for not noticing the sentry.  "I'm very sorry," he apologized, quickly summoning up his French skills to reply in the same language he'd been addressed.  "I'm afraid I had… other things on my mind."

            "I noticed," the man said dryly.  "Who are you, and what do you want with the Ganrou Clan?"

            "I'm Remus Lupin," he told the other man – the other werewolf, he suddenly knew.  "And I've come here from England to – um – see how the more wild wolves live."

            It wasn't much of an explanation, and Remus wasn't sure the guard believed him.  "Right…" he said, suspicion still showing in his eyes.  "So you're a city wolf, then?"

            "Yes, I'm afraid so."  Remus wondered if he'd be called upon to prove it, and how he'd go about doing so.

            "Well, that's not my business, so long as you aren't a vampire," the sentry said with a shrug.  "Keep on going down the path.  You'll come to a wall, with a large door.  Open it, and ask the guard on the other side for whatever it is you need."

            Remus nodded, and continued on.  The sentry hadn't done much to keep him out, in his opinion… but maybe he was allowed to let other werewolves in.  Or maybe he was just meant to make sure the vampires didn't try a surprise attack.  Who knew?

            And there were surely more sentries that Remus hadn't noticed.  Maybe they were going ahead, to warn whoever was at the gate of Remus's arrival.  Werewolves, as Remus knew, were a suspicious lot, and didn't like to be taken unawares.

            He was still pondering this when he reached the wall the sentry had spoken of.  It was a very good wall, in that it made clear the purpose for which it had been built – to keep something inside and something else outside.  _This is ours, the wall seemed to say, __and that is yours.  There was no arguing with this wall.  It didn't have any decorative carvings, or hanging plants, or other ornaments.  It had two sides, and nothing else._

            Well… there was, or course, the door.  It was a rather large door, when Remus took a good look at it, but compared to the wall, it didn't look very big at all.  He only learned the truth when he approached, and found that the bottom of the handle was level with his head.

            Remus swallowed hard.  This had the definite feeling of a test.  Werewolves did have superhuman strength, but wasn't this pushing it?  Just a little?

            Apparently not.  Squaring his jaw, Remus reached up to grab the handle and _pulled.  The door was heavy, heavier than anything he'd ever tried to move, but he could just about manage it.  Certainly no non-wolf could have.  The door was inching open, towards him, and he pulled harder, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.  He only needed to get it open part of the way, just enough to slip through._

            But when he finally got it far enough, and moved to enter, the door started moving back into place.  Remus grabbed at it, feeling like he was about to cry.  Was it some sort of trick these wild wolves were playing on a city-born?  How was he supposed to hold the thing open _and get through it?_

            Then, to his amazement, Remus felt some of the weight lift from him.  Another guard was leaning against the open door, and gestured for Remus to enter.

            "Welcome in, brother," he said, letting the door close behind Remus.  "I'm told you are a city werewolf?"

            "Er – yes," Remus agreed.  Well, he'd just proved it, hauling that awful door open.  But he wasn't used to blurting out his nature every other moment.  It was a little disconcerting.

            "And do you wish to join our clan?" the gate guard asked, raising his eyebrows.

            "Not exactly."  Remus paused, hoping that sounded all right.  "Well, I mean, maybe.  Eventually.  I just wanted to see what the wild wolves were like."

            The sentry shrugged.  "If you like.  You want to talk to Ferox Alpha, then.  You can't wander around here without his permission.  Especially not _now."  Remus didn't need to ask to know the sentry referred to the feud with the vampires._

            "How do I go about seeing – Ferox, you said?" Remus asked.

            "That's easy enough."  The sentry pointed forwards.  "The alpha male always lives in the center of the clan.  Just follow any path long enough, it'll lead you to him."

            "Thank you," Remus said politely.  "I'll go now, then."

            The guard didn't seem to care, one way or the other, so Remus shrugged and began following the path.  As he went, he collected some rather odd looks from the passing werewolves.  And much as he tried to avoid it, he found himself giving them strange looks of his own.

            Remus hadn't realized that wolves in the wild would dress so differently from what he was used to, in the human world.  When he thought about it, he supposed it made sense for a werewolf to wear the skins of animals he or she had killed.  After all, hunting was part of a wolf's nature.  But that didn't stop the shock he felt when he saw men wearing only fur loincloths, and women wearing the same with an added band around their breasts.  The sentries had worn more clothing, to expose less of their flesh to the surrounding woods, but the ordinary wolves – it seemed almost indecent.

            Of course, they seemed to think the same thing of his robes.  Adults gave him disapproving glares, as though he ought to know better, while the teenagers sniggered as he passed.  Some of the small children laughed and pointed outright.

            All in all, it was not the most pleasant walk he'd ever had, and Remus was very relieved to find the Alpha's dwelling at last.  Recognizing the Greek symbol engraved above the stone door, he waited a moment to see if he was to be challenged, then knocked.

            A young girl – nine, perhaps – opened the door.  "Who are you?"

            "Um… Remus Lupin."  He was thrown off a little, being greeted by a child, rather than an adult.  "May I ask who – "

            "I'm Alacra Alphasdaughter, of course!"  She laughed, as a child does when she sees an adult knows less than she.  "Are you that wolf who's just got here from the city?  Um… Rebus?"

            "_Remus," he corrected.  "I'm Remus Lupin.  I think I'd like to speak with your father, if he isn't too busy."_

            "Oh, Papa's _ever so busy," Alacra replied.  "But he said he'd see you in just a minute."_

            "Oh – he knows I'm here?"  Remus was unsure whether or not this was a good thing.

            "Sure.  _My Papa knows __everything," she said proudly.  "But you have to wait a little bit first.  He's __very busy."_

            "That will be fine," Remus told her.  "I don't mind waiting."

            "Good."  Alacra grabbed his hand.  "Come on, you have to wait in the special room!"

            Remus found himself being dragged behind the exceptionally strong little girl to the "special room" – which turned out to be nothing more than a waiting room.  A group of women stood impatiently around a door, clearly waiting for someone to come out of it, while a sullen teenager scowled from the corner.

            Alacra skipped over to him.  "Hi, Laney!" she exclaimed brightly, in what Remus recognized as a Little Sister tone. "Guess what!"

            "Leave me alone, Laci."  Her brother turned away to face the wall.

            "There's a city wolf visiting us!"

            "I don't care."  The boy – no, Remus realized, _not boy; he was in his late teens, but the haunted look in his eyes wasn't that of a child – the young man closed his eyes and seemed to go to sleep._

            Alacra, however, wasn't fooled.  She grabbed his hand, much as she had grabbed Remus's, and literally dragged him to his feet.  "Papa says you have to be polite," she said reproachfully.  "You have to greet all the people who come see him, same as me."

            "Maybe I don't want to," her brother snapped.  "Maybe I think the whole system is biased against our family!  Oh, why do I bother," he grumbled, as his little sister looked blank, and rather bored with what was evidently a familiar rant.  "You don't even understand what I'm saying."  He leaned back on his heels, surveying Remus with far too much cynicism for so young a person.  "So what brings you to this hellhole, anyway?"

            "I got tired of the city," Remus said absently, a realization hitting him.  "Er – do I have the honor of addressing Delaney Alphasson?"

            "The same," the teenager said with a bleak grin.  "I'd rather be called Lane, but most people seem to prefer my other nicknames.  You know, monster-lover, freak, traitor, and so on.  Seems just a tad hypocritical to me, but hey, I'm only seventeen, what do I know?"

            "Well – I think I prefer Lane, as well," Remus said, taken aback at Lane's bluntness.  So this was the young man who'd fallen in love with the vampire princess?  He looked deceptively normal.  In fact, he made Remus think of what he himself could have been at that age – if he hadn't had the other three Marauders.

            "Ah, you'll change your mind soon enough."  Lane shrugged, as though Remus's opinion didn't matter anyway.  Just one more raindrop in the middle of the storm.  "So you decided to come visit us out here in the dregs of civilization?"

            "Oh, it can't be _that bad – " Remus began._

            "So _you say."  Lane snorted.  "Trust me, don't waste your time here.  Get out while you have the chance, or they'll brainwash you like all the other half-animal drones they've got."_

            "They?" Remus asked delicately.

            "Clan leaders," Lane explained, clearly more than happy to express his views on the rural wolven government.  "They all think it's still the Middle Ages, and that they're all feudal lords or something.  Tithes, I can understand.  They've got to trade with the humans, after all.  But they keep everyone so oppressed we can't even go outside the damn wall without a good reason!"

            "Well, you are at war," Remus pointed out.

            "You think the battle with the vampires started that?"  Lane stared at Remus in disbelief.  "You don't know much about us, do you?  It's _always been this way!  And they won't change, because that's how they've always done it!  It's __traditional to brand slave markings on the poor people who can't afford to pay their tithes!  It's __traditional to kill in the bloodiest way possible, never mind how painful it is for the poor animals, just because we're smarter and stronger than them; __traditional to slice girls' palms open when they come into womanhood;__ traditional to try to murder each other every full moon instead of trying to keep the smaller people, the __children, safe from the bullies' basest instincts!  Everything is done for no good reason, except it's so ingrained in the leaders' brains that their thinking couldn't deviate from it if they tried!"_

            "Laney, you _know Papa doesn't like it when you yell like that," Alacra scolded, with a nervous glance towards the doorway.  "You'll get in trouble."_

            "Good!" Lane shouted.  "I don't _care if I get in trouble!  What more can they __do to me than they've already __done?  Take my advice, man!"  He turned on Remus in a rage.  "Run while you still have the will to do it!  Run as fast and as far as you can, back to your city, back to your home!  I'd go with you, if I could.  Run, and never come back!"_

            "_Delaney!  That is __more than enough out of you!"  The silence after Lane's outburst was broken by a tall, powerfully built man striding into the room, thunderbolts in his eyes.  "Go to your den immediately.  I will be there to deal with you when my business here is finished."_

            "Don't I have to wait and greet your precious guests?" Lane sneered.

            "Delaney Julius Alphasson, you will go to your den _now!" his father bellowed._

            Lane gave an unimpressed smirk, and stalked out of the room.  "Remember what I said, city wolf," he called, before passing out of earshot.  "Run while you still can!"

            The man rolled his eyes.  "Teenagers," he said apologetically to Remus.  "Take no notice of him.  The boy's simply going through a… rough time."  He held out a hand, and Remus shook, wincing for the first time in his life at the strength of the grip.  "I'm Ferox Alpha.  You're Remus Lupin, visiting from the city.  Come into the main room."

            Remus followed Ferox into the room the alpha had come out of.  It was large, considering the size of the clan, but nowhere near the Great Hall of Hogwarts, for example.  Two men sat in hewn wooden seats, while Ferox went straight to the majestic throne between them.  A woman, presumably Ferox's mate, sat unobtrusively off to one side.

            "Well, Lupin, this is Darren Huntmaster," Ferox pointed to the man on the left, who wore somewhat more furs than the rest, "and Jonas Trademaster," the man on the right, who had a small ring pierced through one ear.  "We are the three leaders currently hearing out complaints.  What do you have to say for yourself?"

            "Um…"  Remus looked at each of the leaders, trying to think quickly.  "I've always been curious about the way werewolves live away from cities," he said, figuring that part, at least, was true.  "And I just got really tired of living among all those humans, and having to drink that disgusting potion every month so I won't hurt any of them."

            "But why here?" the Trademaster asked, narrowing his eyes.  "You're British; why not choose a British clan?  I believe Anglia is still in existence, is it not?"

            "Well, yes," Remus agreed slowly.  "But I wanted to come here, you see."

            "Any particular reason?" Ferox wanted to know.  "You must be aware we are preparing for battle."

            "Well…"  Remus debated whether or not to tell them about the Aurors' offer of an alliance.  From the angry glimmerings in the alpha's eye at his son's behavior, he rather thought it might not be the best time.  "I did know about the battle, actually.  And that was… was _part of the reason I chose here.  I don't like vampires, you see."_

            Well… it was only a white lie.  Remus didn't really have anything personal against vampires.  He hated the ones who sucked human blood, of course, but more than anything he felt sorry for them.  Not that he _trusted them, of course.  He wasn't an idiot.  But he did feel pity for them._

            "And you want to help fight them?"  Darren's grin had a feral edge.  "Can't say I blame you.  Nasty old bloodsuckers, aren't they?"

            "Um… I suppose," Remus said.  "I'm not sure I want to stay here, though.  I might decide I don't mind the city so much, after all."

            The leaders all exchanged glances.  "Hopefully that will not be the case," Ferox said.  "We could use someone with knowledge of humans, and how their minds work.  But you have to be the one to decide."

            "Then… I can stay?" Remus asked.

            "Unless you do something stupid," the Trademaster replied.  "But you don't look the type to do stupid things, Lupin."

            "You can come with me," Darren said, standing up.  "It's time for me to organize a hunt, anyway.  And if you're staying with us, you can't wear those rags."

            Remus looked down at his robes somewhat indignantly.  They were a little worn – all right, a _lot worn – but they didn't qualify as rags yet!  But he didn't say anything.  __After all, he figured,__ when in Rome._

            "You want me to do… _what?"  Remus stared at the Huntmaster, certain he'd heard wrong._

            "Throw the spear at one of the wolves," Darren snapped impatiently.  "It isn't hard, you know!"

            "But – they're _wolves," Remus said blankly.  "They're like us – "_

            "They're _not like us," Darren cut him off abruptly.  "__We are werewolves.  __They are animals.  Filthy, mangy, cowardly __animals.  And you are going to kill one."_

            "No.  I can't."  Remus tried to hand the spear back to the Huntmaster, who only smirked.  "I _can't," he insisted.  "I __like wolves!"_

            "So do I," Darren agreed.  "Taste like chicken, but you don't get those in these forests."

            Remus felt sick.  Really, truly _sick.  This was almost as bad as vampires drinking human blood.  It was __cannibalism, was what it was.  He'd always gotten along well with the normal wolves.  They tended to like him; he didn't smell like other humans.  He couldn't kill a wolf, it would be like throwing a spear at a human._

            "Don't worry about it, Lupin," Darren told him.  "It'll come naturally.  You've got hunting instincts in you somewhere.  When push comes to shove, the wolf inside will come out."

            _That's what I'm afraid of, Remus thought gloomily._

            "Well, I suppose it isn't your fault you can't aim worth a damn," Darren said with a shrug, as they returned to the clan with the rest of the hunt.  "At least we got a few of 'em anyway."

            Remus only nodded, afraid that if he opened his mouth, the sight of the dead wolf with its stomach torn open and the intestines tangled in its legs would make him ill.  He'd pretended to try to hit the wolf, but he'd missed deliberately.  Oh, he'd _felt the instincts Darren kept talking about, urging him to __tear, to __kill – but he'd spent too long forcing those instincts down to give in to them on this._

            "And that older male had some half-decent fur on it," the Huntmaster continued.  "You can make yourself some _real clothing, not that city crap."  Remus only nodded again, and Darren frowned.  "Don't be disappointed, city wolf," he said in what was probably meant to be an encouraging tone of voice.  "I didn't hit nothing on __my first hunt, and look at me now.  You'll have a pretty good arm, too, once you work on that aim."_

            "Oh, leave the poor man alone, Darren," a woman scolded as they entered the clan's walls.  "He's probably tired.  Aren't you?"  She turned a dazzling smile on Remus, who just shrugged.  He didn't feel like dealing with anything right now except a place to lie down until his stomach was calm again.

            "As you wish, Bella."  Remus didn't notice Darren's slight smirk as he moved up to the front of the group, to deal with the wolves carrying the… wolf…  Remus swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.

            "So you're the new wolf?  All the way from the city?"  Despite what she'd said to the Huntmaster, Bella didn't seem to care much that Remus was tired.  "You must tell me _all about what it was like there."_

            "Perhaps another time," Remus said weakly.  _You'd think a werewolf would have a strong__ stomach, wouldn't you?  But no, of course not, that would make too much sense…_

            "But I'd like to hear _now."  Bella pouted prettily, widening her already large brown eyes.  "Why don't you come visit me in my den, and you can tell me there."  She tried to take his arm._

            "I'd really rather not," Remus said, stepping away from her.  He'd finally noticed she was coming on to him, and… well, even if he'd been feeling well, that wasn't what he was here for.  _And anyway, what would Erin think?  "I'm afraid I'm not interested.  Sorry, ma'am."_

            He'd tried to be polite, but he wasn't very experienced with deflecting a woman's attentions.  It seemed he'd said something wrong.  Bella scowled in what seemed to be completely uncalled-for fury, and stomped away.  Remus watched her bemusedly.

            "Good move."  He turned, startled, to see Lane leaning against the wall behind him.  "You don't want to mess with Bella.  Or with any of the women here, for that matter."

            "Why not?" Remus asked.

            Lane shook his head.  "I can't believe you came here knowing so little about us," he said.  "Yeah, I know, that's why you came in the first place, but it was still pretty stupid."  He looked Remus up and down.  "If you think you're going to be sick, come with me.  You don't want any of _them to see.  They think it's a sign of weakness."_

            Remus followed Lane gratefully, to a place far behind the dens, but still just in the walls, where the clan's refuse was left to rot.  They got there just in time, and Lane was remarkably understanding about having a grown man be sick on the ground in front of him.

            When his stomach had heaved its last, Remus stood and wiped his face with his handkerchief, which he was now very glad he had actually brought.  "Thank you, Lane."

            "Don't worry about it."  The teenager shrugged.  "Same thing happens to me when they make me hunt, and I come back here.  Disgusting, isn't it?  The way they kill those wolves?"

            "Very," Remus agreed.  "Why do they?"

            Lane shrugged.  "If I knew that, I'd have gotten a lot farther in trying to convince them to stop.  I hope you see now why I told you to go back to the city.  You'd better leave now, before Bella or one of her cronies gets her claws into you."

            "Excuse me?"  Remus frowned.

            "You were lucky earlier," Lane said.  "You were more concerned with not being sick all over her than with anything else.  And now that you know what to watch for – "

            "I have to watch for something?"  Remus blinked.  "I really don't understand what you're talking about."

            "Oh, that's right, you don't."  Lane sighed.  "Look, you know how women here have a lot less rights than men?"

            "No, but go on anyway."

            "Well, they do.  But you aren't a member of the clan yet, so you don't have _any rights.  What rights you eventually get will all depend on how you're inducted."_

            "I think I follow you so far, but what does this have to do with that woman?" Remus wanted to know.

            "Isn't it obvious?"  Lane raised his eyebrows in the infuriatingly innocent manner of teenagers everywhere.  "If she can convince you to be her mate, you _have to become a member of the clan.  And if you're her mate before you join, you're subservient to __her.  Once a wolf is ranked below someone, he can __never get away from that person.  Not till one of the two __dies."_

            "Oh."  Remus swallowed hard.  "And… I suppose that she'd make me her mate by seducing me?"

            "What, you expected some marriage ceremony?"  Lane gave a twisted specter of a grin.  "What do we look like?  Humans?"

            Remus sighed.  "Good point.  Thank you for warning me.  I'd like to think nothing would have happened, but… well…"

            "You never know what those women can do," Lane told him darkly.  "Boys aren't clan members till they've made their first kill on their own, and you should see the way Bella and the rest throw themselves at the kids.  I swear, we're a pack of barbarians.  And you want to live _here, rather than in a decent civilization."_

            "Well, if it's any consolation, I may be changing my mind very soon," Remus replied.

            "I hate it here," Remus mumbled to himself, rummaging through his possessions to find that communications device.  "I really, truly hate it."  He couldn't think why _anyone would want to live like this, let alone as many wolves as there were here._

            _Bad enough they make me go on that awful hunt, he thought.  __Bad enough they have crazy women like that Bella trying to make me some sort of slave.  But this__…!  He could have tolerated the other things.  He wouldn't like it, but he'd put up with it.  But the clothes they were forcing on him… that was just going too far._

            Darren had come back to find him, after Remus and Lane had come back out to the open, and dragged him off to get him "proper" clothes.  Remus felt half-naked.  Actually, he _was half-naked.  What kind of barbarians went around dressed in only a loincloth?_

            Scowling, Remus pointed the device so that the crystals pointed in the correct directions.  He'd always known where the different compass points were, even before he'd found out that they _were compass points.  He just hoped Lianne and Erin managed to figure it out.  The western crystal blinked scarlet, while the northern one flashed very faintly blue.  Remus pressed down the western crystal, and waited._

            He was about to give up and try later when the sheet of ice in the center misted over, then cleared to show Erin and Lianne, who were apparently trying to look in the same crystal.

            "Oh, my stars…"  Erin was staring shamelessly, eyes wide in delighted amazement.  Lianne was trying – and failing – to suppress a grin.

            "What – oh."  Remus promptly turned red.  "This is how the people dress here.  They wouldn't let me keep my robes."

            "I don't blame them."  Erin's murmured remark made Remus blush even harder, though he pretended with all his might that he hadn't heard anything.

            "Anyway."  Remus cleared his throat self-consciously.  "So I see you got to the vampires safely?"

            "Yep," Lianne replied.  "And you would not _believe some of the things that have happened."_

**Chapter 21**

_When hopes and dreams are far away_

_And you feel like you can't face the day_

            "Do you think maybe I shouldn't have kissed him?"  Erin looked back along the path as Miache led them towards the vampires.

            "What, just now?"  Lianne shrugged.  "I don't know.  When Remus is being difficult, there's no telling what he's thinking.  James could usually guess, but – well, anyway, I don't know."

            Erin nodded.  That part of the past was a touchy area for Li, and not something she really wanted to go into right now.  "Has he said anything to you?  _Anything?"_

            "Not to me," Lianne said.  "Sirius was talking to him, though."

            "And?"

            "He's having the problems you'd expect.  One," Lianne held up a finger, "your age.  You have to admit you're a lot younger than him.  Two," another finger, "the fact that he's a werewolf.  He doesn't know you already know about that, and he's afraid you'll take it badly."

            "Why would I?"  Erin frowned.  "I mean, I like _him.  He's the same person, wolf or not."_

            "Yes, well, people here don't really feel that way," Lianne reminded her.  "Werewolves are dangerous.  They don't usually just bite, to turn someone into their own kind.  That happens maybe one time in twenty.  Most werewolves kill."

            "Remus wouldn't," Erin said firmly.

            "Sure, _Remus wouldn't," Lianne agreed.  "But when he's transformed… well, that's not Remus.  He never really talked to me about that, so I don't understand exactly how it works.  All I know is that he's not in control of himself when he's a wolf.  And that scares a lot of people."_

            Erin opened her mouth to say it didn't scare her… and then closed it.  That _was frightening.  She was in love with Remus – she'd given up on denying it long ago – and that the man she loved could be so completely lost to himself once a month… it was terrifying.  What if something happened, and he couldn't find himself again?  There were too many awful things that could happen._

            "I'm scared, too," Erin admitted at last.  "But I still love him.  And the werewolf thing isn't going to stop that."

            "I didn't think it would," Lianne said with a grin.  "But I just wanted you to think about it a minute.  I mean, it's one thing to see it on paper, and know it in your head.  It's something completely different when it's real.  You know those years Sirius was in Azkaban?  It's just maybe a line break in some fanfic.  In real life… God, it nearly killed me.  Do you know how much thirteen years _hurts?"_

            Erin swallowed hard.  "No," she said honestly.  "And I'm really glad I don't."  She hesitated.  "Li?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Do you think I have a chance?" Erin asked.  "He's very stubborn, and the age difference is a somewhat valid reason.  What do you think?"

            "Um."  Lianne frowned thoughtfully.

            "If I may comment?"  They both looked over at Miache with a start.  Erin had almost forgotten the vampire was there.  "Zhat man back zhere likes you quite a lot.  It's a classic case of denial if I've ever seen vun.  And in my experience, ze quickest vay to pull a man out of denial is jealousy."

            Lianne eyed the woman doubtfully.  "That never works in stories," she pointed out.  "It always backfires."

            "But zhis is not a story," Miache pointed out.  "And people in real life are very predictable.  Anyvay, zhat is only my advice.  You need not take it if you don't vant to.  But," she shrugged, "it's vorked for me every time in ze last four 'undred years, zhat's all _I vill say."_

            "Thanks," Erin said politely.  Being rude to a vampire was not a clever move.  "But I think I'll wait a little while yet before trying anything so drastic.  He might come around on his own."

            "Yes, 'e might," Miache admitted.  "But zhen again… vell, I 'ear zhose verevolf girls are very… persuasive.  I vouldn't leave a man _I vanted over zhere, not all on 'is own."_

            "Remus would _never!" Erin and Lianne exclaimed angrily, almost at the same time._

            "Per'aps not," Miache said.  "I don't know 'im, or vhat 'e is likely to do.  But zhen again, _you do not know ze volves."_

            "Now, I vill announce you, and you two vill approach ze queen and curtsy."  Miache paused.  "You _can curtsy?"_

            "Er… not well," Lianne said.

            "Not at all," Erin added.

            "Hm."  Miache eyed the two women.  "You'll 'ave to bow, zhen.  Not precisely proper, but much better zhan disgracing yourselves wiz 'orrible curtsies."  She frowned.  "Pity neizzer of you speaks French.  Ze queen's English is not so good as mine, and she knows more zhan many ozzer vampires.  I shall 'ave to translate for you, I suppose."

            A male vampire, in a black evening suit, opened the door and said something to Miache.  She nodded, and motioned for Erin and Lianne to follow her underground.  Li supposed she shouldn't have been surprised the vampire tribe would live _beneath the forest, rather than __in it – they preferred caves, after all – but it had still amazed her.  She'd been expecting grand mansions or gloomy castles, somehow._

            The tunnel down to the vampires' lair was surprisingly clean, for all that it was made of dirt.  Then, Lianne realized that was because it _wasn't made of dirt.  It had been paved in marble tiles.  She held back a smile.  Vain as vampires were known to be, she should have expected something like that._

            They passed doors occasionally, set in the marble.  They were labeled in French, but Lianne recognized a few words from the bits of Latin she'd had to learn in her Ancient Runes class.  "Blood" was featured on many doors, and after a few of those Li decided she didn't want to know what the labels said, after all.

            "Ah," Miache said at last.  "Zhis vun 'ere."  She stopped at a door more or less indistinguishable from all the others, and opened it, sweeping in before the other two.

            Lianne swallowed hard as she followed Miache in.  All of a sudden, she felt very grubby in her plain black working robes, snagged and dirty from walking through the forest.  If she'd known they were going somewhere like _this, she'd've asked if they could stop and change clothes first._

            The room was enormous, and at least as impressive as the Great Hall at Hogwarts.  The walls and floor were a sort of crystalline white, glimmering brightly where the light of what had to be several thousand candles fell on them.  Except – _those can't be real __candles, she thought in amazement.  They were far too bright, and some of them shed light in different shades of the spectrum, that candles normally did __not.  And the ceiling… it was almost frightening.  The ceiling was a giant mirror.  And as the room was full of vampires, many of whom were of the middle levels, only perhaps a third of the people in the room were reflected in the mirror._

            Lianne shivered, then continued after Miache, through the crowds of formally attired people – _well, you can't say vampires have no dress sense, that's for sure – up to the throne._

            Even if the woman there hadn't been wearing the elegant silver crown, Lianne would have known her immediately for Queen Desdemona.  Her hair, long and white, flowed so naturally that she had to have worked on it for more than an hour to get that effect, and the silk of her deep crimson gown spoke of wealth.  But most of all, it was her eyes, clear and silver-blue, that held the royalty.  This was a woman with power, and not just the sort that came from being a vampire.

            Lianne couldn't understand what Miache said to the queen, but she got the message behind the nod the redhead gave when she stopped speaking.  Hands at her sides, Lianne bowed respectfully, noting with relief that Erin did the same.

            "We greet you, Your Majesty," Lianne said, hoping that was the right thing to say.  No one had ever briefed her on meeting royalty.  It wasn't the sort of thing a girl expected to be doing, after all.

            "I am greeting you, Lady Black," Queen Desdemona replied carefully.  "I am vondering alzo vhat iz bringing you 'ere, a 'uman and American."

            "I'm here from Britain, actually," Lianne clarified.  

            "But you speak as an American?" the queen asked, creasing her brow.

            "Originally," Lianne conceded.  "I was born in America, but I moved to Britain to go to school.  Then I just decided to stay."

            "Ov course."  The queen's face was perfectly blank, and made Lianne wonder just how much of that she'd understood.  "And you 'ave come to France vhy?"

            "Erm…"  Lianne glanced at Miache.  This was probably too complicated to try without a translator.  The vampire smiled and nodded for Lianne to go ahead.  "Well, I'm an artist – an illustrator, mostly – and I was kind of traveling around Europe, and I thought maybe it would be a good idea to do some work while I'm traveling.  And I heard that vampires liked to have their portraits painted, so I thought I'd come here and see if you'd hire me."

            As Miache finished her translation, Queen Desdemona – and several of her courtiers – sat stunned.  Then, slowly, the queen began to laugh.  Lianne bit her lip nervously.  Was this a good thing, or a bad thing?  The queen began talking rapidly in French, and Li looked over at Miache for help.

            "'Vell, you certainly are a brave voman, Lady Black,'" Miache translated.  "'I believe zhis is ze first time any 'uman 'as made an offer like zhis before.  Of course, you may paint any of my subjects 'oo vish it.  If zhey are pleased, per'aps I vill commission you myself.  Such boldness is far too rare in 'uman vomen.'"

            "Thank you, Your Majesty."  Lianne hesitated, then bowed again, figuring it couldn't hurt.

            The queen nodded regally.  "Your friend, Mistress Connor," she said abruptly.  "She alzo iz painting uz?"

            "No, I'm just here to help Lia- er, Lady Black," Erin replied, speaking up for herself before Lianne could say anything.

            "Ah."  The queen nodded.  "Zhen velcome to ze Cruentes Tribe.  I 'ope you are not finding your stay too unpleasant."

            Recognizing the dismissal in Queen Desdemona's voice, Lianne bowed again, then glanced at Miache for help.  The red-haired vampire nodded deeply to her queen, then led Erin and Lianne through the crowds to stand by the wall.

            "Zhat vent vell," Miache said softly.  "I did not expect 'er to be so… kind."

            "What do you mean?" Erin asked suspiciously.

            "She seemed impressed," Miache explained.  "She could very easily 'ave ordered you flung to ze mercies of ze forest.  Vampires are not known for their sociable natures."

            "You thought she wouldn't even listen to us?" Lianne hissed in outrage.  "Then why did you bother – "

            "I don't vant to see my people killed because our queen served an evil master," Miache cut her off.  "And it vas ze best idea I'd 'eard of yet.  Now," she changed the subject, "ve are going to stay in ze Court for a little vhile.  If no vun 'as asked for a portrait in… say… an 'our, I vill call in a few favors I am owed."

            "When are we supposed to ask about the alliance with - "  Lianne stopped as Miache shook her head abruptly.

            "Not 'ere," the vampire whispered.  "Not in front of ze entire Court.  Later, I – "  She stopped as a tall man with sweeping, very shiny blond hair approached, and began speaking to him in French.  Lianne watched blankly, really wishing she'd found the time to take French lessons.

            Miache looked over at Li and Erin.  "Zhis is ze Marquis Caesaries Crocei, and 'e vishes to 'ave 'is portrait painted.  And I vould suggest you agree," she added, her tone still as though she were giving a matter-of-fact translation.  "Ze Marquis is ze tutor of ze royal descendants."

            "Of course I agree," Lianne said, smiling politely at Crocei.  "Wouldn't dream of refusing.  Is this a good thing?"

            "Obviously," Miache replied calmly, before turning back to give Lianne's agreement, probably much more formally than it had been spoken.  Li eyed the man critically, wondering how quickly she could paint him.  It really depended on what size portrait he wanted.  Hopefully she could get most of it done today.  Normally, she would never try to paint that quickly, but… these weren't exactly normal circumstances.

            "Follow me, zhen," Miache said suddenly, and strode away, while Crocei went off in the direction he'd come from.  "Vill it take you long to set up?"

            "No, not really," Lianne replied.  "I'm not planning on anything fancy, just straight watercolors, and maybe some black ink."  She frowned.  "Miache?  Shouldn't this Marquis be busy actually _tutoring the kids?"_

            "Zhere are no 'kids,' anymore," Miache told her.  "Crocei is called tutor, but 'e's more along ze lines of a babysitter.  It is 'is job to make sure ze descendants do not get into any trouble."

            "Bit late for that," Erin said, trying not to grin.

            "Quite."  Miache smiled slightly.  "Zhis affair about ze princess and 'er verevolf 'as 'urt Crocei's standing at Court considerably.  I expect zhat is vhy 'e vas so quick to 'ire you.  Ze queen seems to favor you, for ze moment at least, and 'e vishes very much to be in 'er good graces again."

            "So he doesn't actually care about being painted?" Lianne asked.

            "Vell… possibly," Miache said thoughtfully.  "Ze Marquis _is known for 'is vanity.  Vould you 'ave been insulted if 'e didn't care?"_

            "Relieved is more like it," Lianne said, grinning a little.  "I hope he doesn't think he's being overcharged, because there's no way I'm putting a major effort into this.  That hair alone would take hours, if I was!  How does he make it so shiny?"

            Miache smirked.  "Dye."

            Erin sat drumming her fingers against the table, watching Lianne paint the Marquis.  Watching Li be artistic could be fun at times, but not for – she glanced at the clock – an hour and counting.

            "Don't do that, please, Erin," Lianne said, glancing up.

            "Do what?"

            "Hit the table.  You're shaking it."

            "Sorry."  Erin got up and wandered to the front room.  The Marquis was posing in the music room of the tutoring area, wanting to be painted seated at his harp.  The first room they'd entered, the one she was in now, was a library of sorts, only for the royal children.  There were several doors leading out – one to the music room and the rest of the more public areas, one to Crocei's rooms, and one to the rooms of the children.

            Erin glanced at the shelved books.  Every one of them was in French.  Pity.  She could've used something to do.  She picked one up anyway.  From the cover, it had to be some sort of romance.  Yes, that word meant "love" – 

            "You don't want to bother with that one."

            Erin jumped and turned with a start.  A teenage girl, maybe a year younger than Erin herself – though you could never be sure, with vampires – was standing in the doorway to the children's rooms.  She smiled hesitantly, peering out through a thick curtain of black hair.

            "I've read it, and it's very boring," she added, coming shyly into the room.  "And my brother said you didn't know French."

            "I don't," Erin admitted.  "I was just bored."  She put the book back on the shelf.  "Um… I'm Erin Connor."

            "Yes, I know.  I'm Priscilla Insontis."  She looked as though she were trying not to stare, but her eyes were eager.  "Are you really from England?"

            "Yes, Your Highness."  Erin recognized the name of the eldest princess immediately, and made sure her tone was properly respectful.

            "Oh, no, you mustn't call me that!"  Her eyes widened in dismay.  "Please, use my name.  I'm Prissy – or Priscilla, if you really _must.  But do call me Prissy!  That's what my friends used to call me, before I was locked in here."_

            "Um… ok."  Erin shrugged, then frowned.  "Wait a second… the door's not locked."

            "I am bound in this room," Prissy said sadly.  "Aunt Desdemona says it is for my own good.  But I am so lonely!  The only ones who come here are my brother and my cousin – and that horrid Marquis.  And you, now."  She looked into Erin's eyes hopefully.  "Will you be my friend?"

            "I guess so," Erin said, slightly disconcerted.  A thought struck her.  "Hey – you don't have an accent!"

            "No, I do not!"  Prissy laughed merrily, her eyes brightening for a moment.  "I love languages, and that awful man in there says I have a 'knack' for them.  I can also speak German, and Spanish, and I am learning Japanese.  It is such fun!"

            "Yeah…"  Erin wasn't sure what exactly to say.  She'd taken the two credits of a language – Spanish – that she'd needed to graduate, and promptly erased the painful memories.

            "You do not like languages?" Prissy asked, amazed.

            "Well… they're ok."  Erin shrugged uncomfortably.

            "But they are so important!" the princess objected.  "What will you do if you wish to travel, and cannot find someone who speaks your language?  That is what I told… Lane…"  Her voice trailed off into sudden sadness, and the light went out of her eyes.

            "Lane… Delaney?"  It had to be.  She had to be talking about her werewolf lover.

            "Yes."  Prissy nodded, sniffling.  "Delaney Alphasson.  He's – oh, he's _wonderful!  So handsome, and so sweet and polite – not the way those courtiers are, but like he really means it!  I miss him so much…"  She pressed her fists to her mouth in an effort to hold back sobs._

            "I know how you feel," Erin said sympathetically.

            "Do you?"  Prissy looked up, eyes wide with unshed tears.  "Oh, you _do!  Have you a lover?  One that you can't be with?"_

            "Well… I'd _like him to be my lover," Erin admitted.  "He's a werewolf, too."_

            "Like Lane!" Prissy exclaimed.

            "Yes, like Lane," Erin agreed.  "But… he doesn't seem to want a relationship with me."

            "Oh, that's awful," Prissy said.  "But I'm sure he shall come around.  No one can resist love."

            "I hope so."  Erin gave a half-smile.  "But I don't know what to do."  She sighed.  "I suppose you and Lane just fell into each other's arms?"

            "Almost.  He loved me from the very first time he saw me."  A light shone in Prissy's face as she spoke about her lover.  "But – well, he _is a werewolf, after all, and I didn't quite dare say I loved him."_

            "But you got over it?" Erin asked.

            "With some help from him."  Prissy laughed.  "He pretended he was falling for one of those terrible wolf girls, and I just couldn't bear the thought of Lane being with anyone other than me."

            _There's that jealousy thing again.  "But didn't you get angry?  I mean, he did trick you," Erin pointed out._

            "With good reason."  Prissy shrugged.  "I really don't mind.  He did it because he loves me.  I know that.  How could I get angry because he loves me?"

            "Oh, by ze blood, Prizzilla, you _aren't going on about zhat awful volf boy again, are you?"_

            "Lane's _not awful!" Prissy cried, spinning to face the young woman leaning in the entrance from the hall.  "You don't even know him!  He's wonderful!"_

            "Hmp.  So _you say," the other girl sneered._

            "You're just jealous that I _have a lover!"  Prissy raised her chin defiantly.  "I bet no one in the whole tribe wants to be __your lover!"_

            "Really?  Zhat's funny."  The girl smirked.  "I vas just about to say ze same zhing about you.  After all, _you're ze vun 'oo 'ad to go all ze vay to ze volves to find a man villing to court you.  Scraping ze bottom of ze barrel, aren't ve, cousin dear?"_

            "You just be quiet, Hera Iunior!"  Prissy put her hands on her hips in what was clearly meant to be a threatening manner, but was mostly coming off as laughable.  "Or I swear I'll hex you!"

            "You, 'ex _me?"  Hera laughed mockingly.  "Some'ow, I don't see zhat 'appening.  In case you've forgotten, I rank you."_

            "I'm the heiress!" Prissy retorted.

            "For 'ow long, though?"  Hera shook her head.  "Silly little Prizzilla.  You really zhink you're going to pull it off.  Keep your delusions, zhen.  But remember, I'll be zhere vhen zhey all come tumbling down.  And I'll be laughing."

            Having said what she came to, Hera swept away down the hall.  Prissy watched, trembling, with tears in her eyes.

            "I hate her," the vampire princess whispered.  "I don't care if she _is my cousin.  I just – __hate her!"_

            "I don't blame you," Erin said whole-heartedly.  "She didn't seem nice at all."

            "She isn't."  Prissy sniffled, then pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose.  "Sorry.  It's just – she makes me so _mad!  She thinks __she ought to be the heiress, not me.  And," Prissy sighed, "she's probably right."_

            "What makes you say that?" Erin asked curiously.

            "Oh, she's more powerful than me," Prissy said with a shrug.  "And she's much better with people.  I just _can't handle them.  I always lose my nerve."_

            "Not everyone's a people person," Erin reminded her.

            "But a queen _has to be," Prissy said seriously.  "If she can't force her people to do her will, by being the most powerful, then she's got to be able to convince them to do it.  I can't talk people around, and Owls can't do much."_

            "Owls?"  Erin frowned.

            "It's a power level," Prissy explained.  "Don't you know about the vampire power levels?"

            "Only a little," Erin confessed.  "I know Phoenix is the highest.  That's what Miache is."

            "Yes."  Prissy nodded.  "Well, I am in the Order of the Owl.  That is the sixth one, and the most common.  We have most of the bad points of being a vampire, but we are not high enough to have the really good points.  I cannot go out in _any_ sunlight, I'm not reflected in mirrors, and I dare not touch garlic.  And any iron at all…"  She shuddered.  "But Hera does not have such problems.  _She_ is already a Falcon.  That is the ninth level, and she has yet to reach her full potential.  She will likely end as at least a Cobra, perhaps a Tiger – or maybe even a Phoenix."  Prissy sighed wistfully.  "I should love to be a Phoenix.  Like Lady Miache.  She goes wherever she wishes, does whatever she wishes, and no one dares to stop her.  But I am unlikely to ever rise above the Owl."

            "Then… why are _you_ the heiress, instead of Hera?" Erin asked.

            "I am the daughter of Aunt Desdemona's sister.  Hera is the daughter of her brother.  Queenship passes through the daughters."  Prissy sniffled.  "I wish she _were_ heiress.  Then perhaps I could run away with my dear Lane.  But as long as I live, she cannot inherit."

            "That's really awful for you."  In a sudden burst of sympathy, Erin reached out to touch the other girl's shoulder – but the princess gasped and shied violently away.  "Prissy – what's wrong?"

            "Your hand!"  Prissy clasped the skin the Erin's hand had nearly connected with.  "You – you've iron!  On your hand!"

            "What – oh."  Erin turned red, looking down at her hand.  She had a thick ring of iron around the index finger of her left hand, and Lianne had its twin.  After nearly an hour of fruitlessly scouring Remus's house for some small bit of iron, Sirius had lost his temper and transfigured the handles on a pot into two rings.  She'd entirely forgotten she had the thing on, but apparently even being close to it hurt Prissy.  "I'm sorry, I just forgot it was there.  It's just – well, I'm a human, and – "

            "Oh, I understand!" Prissy assured her quickly.  "I was just startled, that's all.  I hadn't expected you to have _iron_."  She rubbed her shoulder, her face pale even for a vampire.  "I – I think I do not feel so well, Erin.  I will go and rest.  But you will come see me again?"  She turned pleading eyes on the other girl.  "Please?  I'm so lonely here – you're the only one who's ever spoken to me since Lane.  Not even my brother…"

            "I'll come back, don't worry," Erin said firmly.  The princess was in a really rough position, that was clear.  She needed a friend… and if Erin was the only available choice, then she'd just have to be that friend.

            "So who exactly knows about this secret meeting?" Lianne asked as Miache led them through a tunnel.  Li was getting the distinct impression that this was not exactly one of the better-known passageways.  The only light came from her wand, and the flickering witch-light Miache had summoned to float over her head.

            "You, your young friend, and I."  Miache smiled.  "Ze queen vill be most surprised."

            "I'm sure," Erin said dryly.  "Why didn't you tell her?"

            "But life is so much more interesting vhen it's unpredictable," Miache said sweetly.  "Besides, she might 'ave ordered me not to bring you, and zhat vouldn't do at all."  She glanced around.  "Ve are nearly zhere.  Be silent, and remain 'ere vhile I see to ze guards."  She froze a moment, then evaporated into a cloud of silver mist that floated swiftly down the tunnel and around the bend.

            Lianne glanced over at Erin, wondering what she was thinking.  She knew her friend had spoken with the princess who'd caused all the trouble, but she hadn't had a chance to ask her about that yet.  After finishing for the day with Crocei, she'd been taken over to see some awful fat woman who _insisted_ on being painted wearing a dress made for someone three sizes smaller and with a complexion suited to garishly vivid lime green.  And to make things worse, the woman knew enough English to question Lianne quite rudely about her personal life.  Bloody gossiping old hag.  _Now I remember why I hate working with models._

            Lianne was distracted from her thoughts by Miache's return.  The redhead walked back down the passageway, rather than floating as mist, and she had a rather smug little smile on her face.  Li decided it would be better not to ask why.  Especially as Miache led them past two now-unconscious guards.

            They entered a room that was nowhere near as luxuriant as what Lianne had seen so far, to find Queen Desdemona seated at her desk, facing them with narrowed eyes.  She studied the three wordlessly, then raised a hand to her throat and murmured what Lianne recognized as the translation spell she'd had quite a lot of trouble with at school.

            "May I ask what you are doing here?" the queen said after a moment.  Lianne saw Erin's eyes widen at the sudden improvement in the vampire's English, but the younger woman had the sense not to question it right then.

            "My apologies, Majesty," Miache said, inclining her head respectfully, but pointedly neither bowing nor curtseying.  "But zhere is a matter of great importance – "

            "Yes, all right, the fact that you interrupted my work told me that," Queen Desdemona snapped irritably.  "I get enough of that posturing at the Court.  Now get on with it or I'll have you all thrown out."

            Miache scowled, deprived of the grandstanding she loved.  Lianne hid a smile.  The queen reminded her a little of Arabella Figg, and the antagonistic relationship the old witch shared with the beautiful red-haired Phoenix.

            "It was because of me, Your Majesty," Lianne spoke up, praying silently that she was going about this in the right way.  "I – I'd like to talk to you."

            "I guessed that.  Something you couldn't say in front of the Court."  The Queen surveyed the witch standing before her, eyes as sharp as Dumbledore's, but without the fond amusement that so often twinkled behind his glasses.  "I suppose you're going to tell me you aren't an artist, after all."

            "I _am_!" Lianne cried indignantly.  She blushed.  "Sorry, Majesty."  The queen nodded impatiently.  "Well, I am an artist… but I didn't come here just to paint your subjects."

            "Why am I not surprised?"  The queen shook her head slowly.  "Then why?"

            "Well…"  Lianne started to glance in Miache's direction, then stopped herself.  _She_ was the one who'd been sent by the Circle.  She had to do this herself.  "I have been asked by – by some people in England to – invite you to join our – cause."  She winced.  That hadn't come out well.  "I mean – "

            "I have the general idea."  The queen eyed Lianne a moment more.  "Who?"

            "Um… Albus Dumbledore, among others."  Professor Dumbledore was a good starting point.  Most people had heard of him, even those who weren't English.

            "Ahhh."  Queen Desdemona nodded in understanding.  "You wish the Cruentes to help you fight against your Dark Lord."

            "'E is not just _zheir_ Dark Lord, Majesty," Miache reminded the queen.

            "I'm well aware of that, Miache."  The queen closed her eyes to take a deep breath.  "Why don't you three sit down?  This may take a while."

            Lianne and Erin hesitated, but when Miache showed no qualms about seating herself in one of the chairs beside the desk, they followed her example.  Silence reigned for a few minutes, while the queen sat unmoving and Lianne composed her thoughts.

            "I assume you are aware that this Dark Lord has approached me," the queen said at last.  Her eyes were closed, but she seemed to sense Lianne's nod of confirmation.  "Yes, I thought as much."  She opened her eyes to study the three before her.  "Did you also know of his first offer to us, a few years back?"

            "Um… no, I didn't," Lianne admitted.  "I wasn't as… well-informed in those days."

            "Yes, it would be a long time for a human," Queen Desdemona mused.  "Well, I remember quite well.  The battle with the wolves wasn't so urgent a cause then, and our trade with humans was flourishing.  This Lord did ask us to join him, but we managed to remain neutral.  Ours was one of the few tribes who did so.  I'd hoped that we would be able to maintain our standing… but that does not seem possible now."

            Lianne wasn't quite sure what to say.  She hadn't expected the queen to be so open about considering turning to Voldemort.  She'd been prepared to pretend that the Dark Lord had nothing to do with anything.  She hadn't been ready to speak so frankly.

            Though of course, a vampire tribe could afford to openly support Voldemort and his cause.  Vampires were already universally hated; there wasn't much more anyone could do to them than had already been done.  If they decided the Dark Lord deserved their loyalty, they had nothing to lose by declaring it.

            "Well, I have heard your opposite number's side of things," the queen said.  "Why don't you tell me why you think the Cruentes ought to support _you_?"

            "Um."  Lianne frowned for a moment.  "Well… we're fighting for freedom.  The Dark Lord will oppress everyone if he wins.  Even the vampires.  He isn't going to be loyal to anyone except himself.  Anything he promises you, he won't give.  He'll just laugh, and destroy you."

            "But we seem likely to be destroyed in any case," Queen Desdemona pointed out.  "You misunderstand me, Lady Black.  I know the reasons not to ally with this Lord.  But what are the reasons I should choose you instead?"

            "Oh.  Um."  Lianne realized she was saying that a lot.  She really ought to kick the habit.  "We could – uh – "

            "We have a delegation negotiating with the Ganrou Clan," Erin said, cutting off Lianne's fumbling.  The queen's eyes snapped to the younger girl.  "If you agree to support us, we could try to arrange a more diplomatic solution to your feud than fighting."

            "And what makes you think we cannot fight?" the queen demanded, bristling.

            "You haven't got enough people," Erin said calmly.  "And the ones you have got are – well, you know your Court better than I do.  How long do you think they'd last against a fighting force of wolves?"

            "Vampires are more than just pretty faces," Queen Desdemona said coldly.

            "Against verevolves?" Miache asked pointedly.  "Mistress Connor 'as a point, Your Majesty.  Using our powers against ozzer Dark creatures is much more divvicult.  Per'aps if numbers vere on our side, ve might 'ave a better chance.  But as zhings are – "

            "I know," the queen cut her off sharply.  She sighed.  "Believe me, Miache, I know our weaknesses very well.  And I would like nothing more than to be able to extricate my people from this mess without a war.  But realistically speaking," she turned her gaze on Lianne, "you must understand that, when dealing with creatures as uncivilized as those wolven barbarians, force is much more effective than diplomacy."

            "Then you're refusing us?"  Lianne swallowed hard.  She hadn't really thought the queen would do that.  She couldn't imagine anyone choosing to follow Voldemort, not when she had another option so readily available.

            "Not refusing, exactly," Queen Desdemona said.  "I would simply like some time to think all of this through more carefully.  You must understand, this is not a decision to be made lightly."  She looked at Lianne more closely.  "Or perhaps you do not understand, after all."

            "I'm afraid I don't," Lianne confessed.  "But it's your decision, not mine."

            "And I cannot decide simply for myself," the queen added.  "A ruler must make choices with all of her people's interests in mind, not simply her own.  Even if my moral judgment should parallel yours, the moral path is not always the one that is best for the people I lead."

            Lianne shook her head slowly.  She still didn't really see how following Voldemort could be good for _anyone_… but at this point, pressing the issue would do no good.  "Will you let me know when you've made your decision?"

            "Rest assured of it."  The queen smiled faintly, just enough to expose the tips of her fangs.  Lianne stopped herself from shivering visibly, but it was a near thing.  "In fact – "  She stopped, eyes flickering to the doorway behind her three guests.  "Another visitor?  My, I'm getting popular.  Come in, Xavier."

            "Your English 'as improved, Majesty."  A tall young man – no, probably _not_ young, considering that he was a vampire – came forward.  "And I see you are wiz your lovely guests from Court.  Considering ze condition I found your guards in… zhis is most interesting."

            Lianne watched him with narrowed eyes as he – Xavier, had the queen said? – bowed first to her, then Erin, then Miache.  It was, she noted, a pity she hadn't been asked to paint _him_.  He fell right in the Tall, Dark, and Handsome category, with the queen's silver-blue eyes to cap it all off.  She'd have chosen him over that horrible fat woman any day.

            Or maybe she wouldn't have.  At least the fat lady didn't move like a tiger preparing to pounce.  And at least her eyes didn't burn with a dark internal fire.  Remus's repeated warnings about vampires all came back to her in a rush, and Lianne could almost believe they'd all been aimed directly at this man here.

            "I 'eard you at your introduction to ze Court, earlier today," Xavier said, with a charming smile, "but you did not meet me.  I am Xavier Insontis – Prince if you must, but I would far rather be Xavier to ladies such as you."

            "A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness," Lianne said, trying to keep a balance of polite and distant while her instincts insisted that the only intelligent thing to do just now was to turn and run for her life.

            "A pleasure," Erin echoed.  To Lianne's relief, the younger girl didn't sound any more bewitched than Li herself was.  Unfortunately, she was having a bit more trouble keeping the dislike from her voice.  Xavier raised an eyebrow at that, but, apparently amused, chose not to address it.

            "Well, nephew, what brings you here?" the queen asked wearily.

            "Ze same request as ever."  Xavier leaned nonchalantly on the edge of the queen's desk.  "My sister's release from 'er prison."

            Queen Desdemona sighed.  "You know my answer, Xavier."

            "Of course, of course."  He waved an elegant hand.  "But you know I must ask.  For my sister's sake."

            "Yes," the queen replied coolly.  "I know."  She was silent a moment, considering her nephew.  "Why do you bring it up again now, of all times?"

            A look of – _something_ – flashed across Xavier's face, too quickly for Lianne to decide what it was.  "My sister is – most upset," he said.  "Zhis confinement is not good for 'er.  And she did say zhat she'd met wiz your fair guests.  I 'ad 'oped zhey might 'ave spoken for 'er."

            "They had other issues to bring to my attention," the queen said calmly.  She looked over at the seated women.  "You met with Priscilla?"

            "I did," Erin said.  "It was – kind of an accidental meeting."

            "I can imagine."  Queen Desdemona frowned in thought.

            "Surely you vish 'er release, zhen?"  Xavier turned his charm on Erin.  "A young lady like yourself vould 'ardly vant poor Prizzilla to be locked in 'er chambers day and night."

            Erin looked down at her knees, rather than meet Xavier's eyes.  _Good move,_ Lianne thought.  Whatever Erin did next, she would do herself, rather than under the vampire's control.

            "I see why you'd want to keep her locked up, Your Majesty," Erin said at last, to the queen.  "I'm sure it's safer."

            Xavier scowled darkly, and looked as though, had there been a chair remaining, he would have flung himself into it to sulk.  Instead, he contented himself with looming menacingly over everyone and glowering at them all.  Especially Erin.

            "I believe my nephew and I need to have another discussion about the princess," Queen Desdemona said thoughtfully.

            "Ve'll take our leave, zhen."  Miache rose, once more inclining her head without curtseying.  Lianne and Erin chose to bow, both to the queen and the prince.

            "Farewell, Your Majesty, Your Highness," Lianne said politely.

            "Farewell," Xavier said, inclining his head much as Miache had done.  He seemed as perfectly courteous as when he'd entered, but, just before they left the room, he called out, "Mistress Connor?"

            Erin turned around, puzzled.  "Highness?"

            His smile was merely an excuse to bare his bladed fangs.  "May you be _exactly_ as safe as my sister is."

            "Why the hell don't these bloody things come with a manual?"

            Erin tried not to laugh as Lianne attempted to work the mirror-thing Dumbledore had given them.  "They probably did," she said thoughtfully, once she had herself under control.  "Way back in seventeen-whenever when Dumbledore got them."

            "He isn't _that_ old," Lianne objected.  "Anyway, the ice would've melted."

            "Point."  Erin watched as her friend experimented with holding it upside-down and shaking hard.  "You're going to break it."

            "Am not."  Lianne looked distracted enough to be easily tricked into a long repetitive "are not/are too" argument, but Erin didn't feel up to it, and decided to let it go.

            "Are you sure you've got it pointed the right way?" she asked instead.

            "Um… no, not really."  Lianne blinked, looking around the room Miache had put them in for the night.  "I don't even know which way's which when we're outside, how'm I supposed to tell when I'm underground with four walls around me?"

            "Do you have a compass?" Erin asked patiently.

            "No."

            "Do you know how to make one?"

            "What do _you_ think?"

            "Well, it was worth a shot."  Erin sighed – then sat up straight in inspiration.  "Say – do you know that spell Harry used in the fourth book?"

            Lianne gave Erin a Look.  "Considering that the last time I read those things was about twenty years ago – "

            "Right, sorry.  I mean, the one where he could make his wand point north?  It was… um…"  Erin snapped her fingers repeatedly, trying to jog her memory.  "The points…"

            "The Four-Point Spell?"  Lianne smacked her forehead.  "Why didn't _I_ think of that?"  She shook her head.  "Well, I think I can manage it, yes.  Let's see."  She pulled out her wand and rested it in the palm of her hand.  "_Point Me_," she commanded softly.

            An astonishing nothing happened.

            She scowled and repeated, "_Point Me_!"

            There was a complete lack of reaction from her wand.

            "_Point Me_, damn you, or I'll use you as firewood!"

            Erin rolled her eyes.  "That isn't going to – "

            "It's already pointing north," Miache said from the doorway, surveying the scene with great interest.  "Vhat are you doing?"

            "A spell to contact Remus," Lianne said absently, readjusting her mirror so that the crystals were correctly aligned.

            Erin came over to peer into the reflection, as well as Lianne.  "Do you know how it works?"

            "Um."  Lianne was staring at the crystals.  Erin followed her gaze.  Some of them were blinking, and they were all different colors.  "No, not really.  You?"

            "I'm not supposed to.  You're the witch," Erin said, prodding hopefully at a corner.  "Is that crystal supposed to do that?"  The eastern one had been flashing, but it was now glowing a steadily darker red, approaching black.

            "Oh!  Remus is trying to talk to us!"  Lianne grinned and pressed that crystal down.  The mirror faded into his reflection.

            His _shirtless_ reflection.  Erin's eyes widened.  "Oh my stars…"  _Good Lord in heaven, _she thought dazedly,_ he's _gorgeous!

            Of course, she'd always firmly believed that Remus was gorgeous, but fantasizing about him and _seeing_ him were two completely different things.  Erin wondered vaguely if he was wearing pants, and how she could get the reflection down that far, and whether he'd be angry if she did.

            "What – oh."  Remus blushed a _very_ deep red.  Apparently, he'd noticed that she was staring.  "This is how the people dress here.  They wouldn't let me keep my robes."

            "I don't blame them."  _Did I just say that out loud?_  Erin was amazed at her daring – or at her absentmindedness, whichever had made her voice that particular thought.

            "Anyway," Remus said quickly, clearing his throat in embarrassment.  "So I see you got to the vampires safely?"

            "Yep," Lianne said, her tone somewhere between relieved and regretful.  "And you would not _believe some of the things that have happened."_

            "Considering my own experiences, I rather think I would," Remus said dryly.

            "Did you have to crawl through dusty tunnels, deal with people who don't speak your language, meet an insane royal family, and paint an appalling fat woman?" Lianne wanted to know.

            "Not exactly."  Remus hid a smile.  "I did, however, get to move a very heavy door, speak to the Alpha male, go hunting, get sick at the sight of the dead wolf, and have my clothes replaced."

            _So he _is_ wearing clothes,_ Erin thought in mild disappointment.

            "Sounds exciting."  Lianne grimaced.  "Hunting, huh?  Not your usual style."

            "Yes, and believe me, there's a reason.  But," Remus brightened, "I did meet the young man who's started everything – Delaney Alphasson."

            "Really?  I met Priscilla Insontis!" Erin spoke up.  "She's this terribly shy little thing.  They've got her locked up in her rooms."

            "I don't think the wolves could keep Lane locked up if they tried."  Remus smiled slightly.  "He seems the type to either pick a lock, or break it.  But he isn't allowed outside the walls, so the effect is the same.  And he's anything but shy."  A dark look crossed his face.  "He's the only one in this entire place who's given me decent advice."

            "Oh?" Lianne asked curiously.

            "He told me to get out while I had the chance," Remus explained.  "And – some other things.  Customs, and so on."

            "Nice of him," Lianne remarked.

            "Yes, it was, wasn't it?"  Remus shivered.  "If he hadn't warned me, I might've ended up doing something – stupid."

            Erin shook her head.  "You don't do stupid things."

            "You didn't know him at Hogwarts," Lianne countered with a grin.

            "If we could get back to the matter at hand," Remus said loudly, ignoring Erin's laughter.  "I didn't get a chance to bring up the situation back home, but it's the first thing I plan to do in the morning.  The sooner we're done here, the better."

            "We spoke to the queen about it," Lianne said slowly, "but she didn't seem very enthusiastic."

            A look of alarm crossed Remus's face.  "Should you get out of there?  If you think they've already gone over – "

            "Zhey 'aven't," Miache said firmly, from across the room.  Erin started.  She'd forgotten the vampire was there.  "Not yet.  I vould know."

            "I'm sure."  Remus's words were polite, but it was a good thing Miache couldn't see the doubt in his expression.  "Well, if all else fails, you have your iron, right?"

            "Right," Erin told him, holding up her hand to prove it.  Lianne did the same.

            "Good."  Remus nodded.  "Then I guess the only thing you can do is keep trying to convince the queen.  And try to defuse the situation with the princess, if you possibly can."

            Erin winced.  "I think I may have messed that up."

            Remus raised his eyebrows.  "Oh?  How so?"

            "I think I got her brother angry," Erin said hesitantly.  She didn't like talking about Xavier.  She didn't like _thinking_ about him.  Right before she'd looked away, when he'd asked her to request Prissy's freedom – it had been like he was trying to get inside her mind.  "I'd rather not talk about it."

            "All right."  Remus didn't ask anything more, but the concern remained in his eyes, and warmed Erin like a fire on a snowy day.  "How did the painting go?" he asked.

            "All right."  Lianne shrugged.  "Portraits aren't my favorite things in the world, and these works won't be displayed in any galleries, but they aren't _bad_.  And I think the Court pretty much accepted us."

            "Good."  Remus heaved a sigh of relief.  "I was worried about that.  You haven't got the excuse of kinship."

            "Speaking of which, what did they think of you?" Lianne asked.

            "Um… they were a little suspicious at first," Remus said after a moment's thought.  "But I don't think they are anymore.  They don't act it, anyway."  He gave a twisted half-smile.  "One of them even made an attempt to get me adopted into the clan."

            "Really?"  Lianne blinked.  "That's good… right?"

            "Not really," Miache said, looking over their shoulders to wave at Remus.  "I expect zhat _she_ tried to get you inducted as 'er mate.  By trying to seduce you."

            Erin turned white, and hardly noticed Remus's blush.  The vague ideas she'd had of a group of wolf men trooping through the woods on a merry hunt were quickly replaced by grimly clear visions of beautiful wolf women as scantily clad as Remus was at the moment, flinging themselves at him in the forest clearings after he was exhausted from impressing them with his brilliant hunting skills.  Beautiful wolf women… who were like him.  Who could _understand_ him.  Who were his age.

            "Excuse me."  Erin turned abruptly and quickly ducked out of the view of the mirror and into the side room Miache had told them was a bathroom.  If she was going to cry, she damned well wasn't going to do it in front of Remus!

            "What just happened?"  Remus blinked after Erin fled.  "Is she ok?"

            "I doubt it."  Lianne gave Miache a dirty look.  "What'd you go and tell her that for?  You _knew_ she'd get upset."

            "Wait – you're telling me she's _jealous_?" Remus asked, astonished.  "Just because Miache said some wolf woman was throwing herself at me?"

            "You'd be jealous if you'd 'eard about Xavier," Miache said with a shrug.

            Remus stiffened.  _I am not going to ask,_ he told himself firmly.  _She's a _vampire_, she just likes controlling people.  I am not going to ask._

            Lianne scowled.  "I didn't like him."

            "People tend not to," Miache agreed.  "Of course, 'e vas quite charming to Erin.  'E seemed to be razzer fond of 'er."

            Remus glared at Miache.  "I don't know what you're trying to do, but _I_ am not eighteen, and I am not falling for your mind games."

            "What mind games?" Li asked.  "Believe me, I'd much rather he _didn't_ pay so much attention to Erin.  I have this nasty feeling he's going to come look for her again, and that none of us will like what he's going to do.  Especially after the way he looked at her when we were with the queen."

            "Of course, she _vould_ make a lovely vampire," Miache said thoughtfully.  "I vonder if Xavier picked up on – zhat _'urt_!"  She glared at Lianne indignantly.

            "It was meant to," Lianne said sweetly.  Remus hadn't the faintest idea what it was Lianne had done, but considering to whom she was married, he was quite sure it had been _most_ unpleasant.  "He'd better not try to bite her!"

            "She has more sense than to let him get that close," Remus protested, a cold lump of fear and desperate worry and – something else – forming in the pit of his stomach.  "Doesn't she?"

            "I hope so," Lianne said, sighing.  "But the first thing I noticed is that he's _awfully_ handsome – and he's a vampire, too.  He reminded me of all the awful things anyone's ever said about vampires."

            "You know, it's no trick for vun of us to make you _zhink_ ve're trustvorthy," Miache reminded them.  "Just stare into 'er eyes like 'e vas doing before – "

            "You let him stare into her eyes?" Remus cried in horror.  "What kind of witches _are_ you?  You're supposed to protect her!"

            "She looked away," Lianne said defensively.

            "Eventually," Miache added.

            Remus swallowed hard, trying to compose his thoughts into some semblance of order.  But it was hard to get his mind past the thought that Erin had been close to a vampire.  A _handsome_ vampire.  A handsome vampire who was powerful enough that Miache was worried about it.  Oh, Lord, why hadn't he insisted she stay behind?  He'd _known_ that she'd been raised Muggle, that she didn't really understand about vampires!  She was going to be hurt – maybe _killed_ – and it would be his fault!

            "Look, Remus, I'm sure it'll be fine," Lianne said, worry in her eyes.  "I mean, Erin's a smart person, right?  And it's not like you didn't teach her how to deal with vampires, remember?"

            Oh, yes, Remus remembered _that_ lesson.  He spent far too much time trying to forget it.  _I just hope she doesn't do what _I_ did there._

            Then he had the unpleasant task of trying to banish the mental pictures of Erin kissing a handsome, powerful young vampire.  _Oh, God, no.  Please, _no_._

            "I think I have to go now," Remus said distantly, his mind on the terrible thoughts crowding into his head.  "I – I'll contact you again tomorrow, as soon as I can."  He pressed down the western crystal again – and the connection, mercifully, died.  He sank down onto the ground and put his head in his hands.

            "And here I thought you weren't the type to do stupid things, Lupin."

            Remus jumped to his feet and turned, coming face to face with Jonas Trademaster.  "What are you doing here?"

            "It's my clan," the Trademaster said calmly.  "I may go where I wish.  However, even I do not have permission to converse with vampires."

            "Especially not in times of war," Ferox added, entering the room.  Darren Huntmaster leaned in the doorway, his stance deliberately casual.  "People might get the wrong idea."

            "Um… yes, I do think this is a case of getting the wrong idea," Remus said slowly, thinking even more quickly than when he was confronted by suspicious coworkers wearing silver amulets and asking pointed questions about the full moon.  "The reason I was talking to the vampires – well, more to a friend of mine who is part of a delegation to visit the vampires – is that I'm meant to bear you a message from Albus Dumbledore.  You know, in England?" he added, when this did not earn him the hoped-for acceptance.

            "We've heard of him," Ferox said, crossing his arms.

            "Yes.  Well."  Remus shifted slightly, uncomfortably aware that he was now surrounded, with all of his exits blocked.  "He – and the rest of his Circle, of course – he's sent me to ask you to join our cause.  Against Voldemort.  And we'd give you aid, of course, to stop the battle with the vampires."

            "Why would we want to _stop_ the battle?" Darren asked.  "We're the ones who have the better odds.  Of course, I can see why your vampire friends wouldn't want to fight.  But vampires have always preferred their mind trickery to an honest battle."

            Remus had a very bad feeling about this discussion.  It was not going the way he'd hoped.  At all.  "Well, fine, maybe we won't help you with the vampires.  You can fight that battle yourselves.  But surely you'd like to ally with us against the Dark Lord."

            "You know, I really don't think we would," Ferox said calmly.  "It might upset him, you see.  And upsetting one's new Master is hardly going to win prizes for cleverness."

            "Um… master?"  Remus didn't even bother to hope that he'd misheard.  He knew he hadn't.

            And then he realized that he couldn't see the Trademaster anymore.

            His last thought before something hard came down on the back of his head was that Erin and Lianne would never know what had happened.

Author's Note:  Ok, that last part amused me far too much.  I like torturing characters. *grin*  Anyway.  I'm not sure when I'll have the next part done, since we're going on vacation soon.  Rest assured that I _am_ working on it, though.  It's the last one to deal with Erin and Remus and the vampire/werewolf thing.  After that we'll be moving to new and uncharted territory.

Disclaimer:  Well, I don't own anything from the Potter world.  That all belongs to JK Rowling, the only person who writes more slowly than I do. *grin*  I do, however, own the vampire and wolf cultures, plus all the various people I had to create to populate those cultures.

Thank you to all the wonderful people who are still following this, despite how long it's taking me: Annabel Lee, Jessica, Waterfall, *Prongs*, ravenclawer, nycgal, Calbee, Weaver, EmmaCF, Trisana Moonstream.  I love you all!

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	13. Black As Ebony

Dreaming of You

Author's Note:  Well, yet another single-chapter part.  I'm going to start running out of titles at this rate.

Anyway, quick note so that no one gets confused – this is set in France.  Therefore, people talk in French at times.  Unfortunately, I do not speak French.  So basically, Remus can speak French, so any wolf conversations are in French.  Lianne and Erin can't speak French, so the vampires have to talk to them in English.  But amongst themselves, the vampires talk in French.  The way to tell the difference is that if a vampire is speaking with any form of accent, he or she is speaking English.  Otherwise, it's French.  I just thought I ought to clear that up.

Also, I would like to apologize in advance for some of Miache's comments.  I'm trying to write the way she thinks, and I don't want anyone to be insulted.  They are her views, not mine.

**_Part 12 – Black As Ebony_**

**Chapter 22**

_Let me be the one you call_

_If you jump, I will break your fall_

_Lift you up and fly away with you into the night_

            "Ok, Miache."  Lianne turned to the vampire, arms crossed.  "What exactly were you doing?"

            "I don't know vhat you mean," Miache said, just a shade too innocently.

            "You were trying to make Remus jealous of Xavier," Lianne said flatly.

            "Vhat, _me_?"  Miache raised an eyebrow.  "Vhy vould I do zhat?"

            "That's what I'd like to know."  Lianne raised her chin stubbornly.  "Vampire or not, these are my friends you're playing games with, and I want to know what you think you're doing.  And _why_ you're doing it."

            Miache shrugged.  "I 'ave my reasons."

            "And what are they?" Lianne demanded.  "You do not know Remus, no matter what you think – and you don't know how he'd react to something like this!  He's going to get depressed, he's going to sulk, he's going to draw in on himself – and right now, he can't afford that!"

            Miache eyed Lianne a moment.  "I'm vorried," she said at last.

            "Yeah, sure, _now_ you realize you're worried," Lianne snapped.  "Now that – "

            "Oh, be still!"  Miache glared at Li, who immediately stopped talking under the pressure of those eyes.  "It isn't your volf friend 'oo vorries me – it's ze young lady."

            Lianne's eyes widened.  "Erin?"

            "Yes, Erin."  Miache's eyes darkened as she frowned.  "Xavier does not often pay zhat much attention to vampire girls.  I don't know vhat interest 'e 'as in Erin, but I doubt she'll like it much.  She seems good as resisting so far, but… vell, 'e vasn't really making an effort.  Not vith you, ze queen, and me right zhere.  But if 'e ever did… Xavier is at ze Cobra power level."

            "Eleven," Lianne said, nodding in recognition.  "But what does that have to do with Remus being jealous?"

            Miache gave a half-smile.  "She loves 'im.  Per'aps it's only a passing love, or per'aps love eternal… but zhere it is.  And it vill 'elp 'er fight anyzhing Xavier tries.  I don't trust our dear Prince Charming, especially around a 'uman girl.  But if she zhinks 'er volf doesn't love 'er… vell, it leaves 'er more open to Xavier zhan if she didn't love your friend at all."

            "Why – oh."  Realization dawned as Lianne remembered some forms of simple _human_ manipulation.  "He can use her feelings against her?"

            Miache nodded.  "Anyzhing from simply offering 'comfort' to turning 'er against ze volf, you, and all you represent."

            "He couldn't really, could he?"  Lianne wanted very badly to believe he couldn't… but she knew exactly how dangerous that would be.

            "Of course 'e could," Miache said, somewhat indignantly.  "Xavier is a vampire.  Ve specialize in controlling people's emotions.  If it makes you feel better, it vouldn't necessarily be 'er feelings.  All 'e needs is a crack of doubt… zhen 'e could get into 'er mind and control 'er."

            Lianne swallowed hard.  "That doesn't exactly make me feel much better."

            Miache smiled grimly.  "It vasn't meant to."  The smile disappeared.  "I just 'ope your volf friend reacts properly."

            "Yeah."  Lianne frowned doubtfully.  "I wonder how Remus is really doing.  He sounded like he was all right, but – well – I just hope he's ok."

            _I'm not dead._  That was Remus's first semi-coherent thought as he drifted back to consciousness.  Although he'd never actually _been_ dead before, he was sure that death could not possibly hurt this much.  Of course, he could be dying from the pain… his entire body felt like one giant ache.  And he couldn't remember the last time he'd had such an awful headache.

            Upon trying to raise a hand to his head, Remus discovered the reason for the pain that seemed to center on his wrists and ankles.  He was tied up.  Thoroughly.  He couldn't even see his bonds, on account of the blindfold.

            _All right, don't panic,_ Remus told himself.  _Panic would not be a smart move._  He tried to think calmly and rationally, to remember exactly why he was tied up and blindfolded – and, as the fuzzy taste in his mouth attested, gagged.  He'd been shown a den to stay in, he remembered that, and he'd tried to contact Lianne and Erin.  No – he _had_ contacted them.  And then – 

            _Oh, God._  Remus's mind all but stopped working as everything flooded back to him in a rush.  _They're working for Voldemort.  They're already on his side.  And I can't even warn anyone.  Lianne will – _

            Remus's train of thought promptly derailed there.  _Lianne.  And Erin._  They were right in the middle of this, right on the battle lines – and if he knew Li, her first reaction would be to come try to find him.  By knocking on the gates and asking if any of the wolves had happened to see him.

            If Remus could have moved, he'd've put his head down in his hands.  _I'm an idiot,_ he thought bitterly.  _Why didn't I notice something was wrong?  Now _I'm_ caught, and Li and Erin probably will be in a day.  And then – _Remus stopped that thought right there.  A quick death was probably the best they could hope for.

            Which brought up the question of why he was still alive now.  This was not reassuring.  The idea of hostages came to mind.  Remus wondered vaguely what his life would be worth to the Circle.  Then he decided he didn't want to know how little.

            _They can't ransom me._  Remus knew it.  They didn't dare give an inch to Voldemort.  Not when every step they earned would be through shed blood and tears.  _But surely Voldemort will know that.  He'll either torture and kill me, or…_  Remus really, really didn't want to think about the range of Imperius derivatives.

            It really was too bad that they'd tied him up.  He couldn't even die in a valiant attempt at escape.  Of course, he could always lie on the floor in a threatening manner.  Or maybe, if he really made an effort, he could twitch aggressively.

            Remus scowled – or would have, if it hadn't been for that bloody gag.  _If I'd been the hero of one of those stupid books Li's always reading, there would be a convenient bit of sharp rock right by the ropes,_ he thought, inexplicably resentful towards the imaginary characters.  _Or I'd miraculously be able to work magic with my mind, like some sort of vampire.  Or I'd roll around and fall through a secret passage leading to the underground rebellion against the wolven leaders.  Or – _

            "Hello, city wolf."

            _Or I'd be rescued by a half-crazed teenager with a vendetta against the entire rest of the clan._

            "Got yourself into quite the jam, I see."  Lane sounded tired, more so than any teenager had the right to sound.  "I did warn you to run while you had the chance."

            Surprisingly gentle hands removed the gag.  Remus breathed deeply, and tried to swallow with his too-dry tongue, as Lane went on to the blindfold.

            "Better?"  The younger wolf folded the two pieces of cloth up neatly.  "I'd try to do something about the rest of the ropes, but a guard will probably come check on us in the next ten minutes, and I'd rather not have to untie them twice."  He cut off Remus's attempt to speak.  "No, don't bother.  You need water first.  The guard will bring some."  His bitter smile reappeared.  "They want to keep us alive, you know."

            Remus nodded.  He knew what he was useful for, that was certain… but what about Lane?  Locking the wolf up made sense, in a way – surely he'd try to warn his beloved about his clan's allegiance – but wouldn't it be just as easy to kill him?  What would it achieve to keep him alive?

            "So."  Lane sat cross-legged in front of Remus.  "You're one of Dumbledore's Aurors?  Or a messenger, at least.  Then I guess you're smarter than you've let on.  I mean," he smiled grimly, "you'd have to be."

            Remus frowned, offended.  He hadn't done _that_ badly – well, all right, he had, hadn't he?  But had he really seemed _stupid_?  To a man used to being considered intelligent, that stung.  Not as badly as the ropes did, but still.

            "Don't feel bad, city wolf," Lane said, interpreting Remus's expression correctly.  "You didn't actually do too badly.  Telling the clan leaders who sent you was only your second major mistake.  The first one, of course, being coming here in the first place."

            "You, traitor, ought to show more respect."  Remus, facing away from the door, could only hear the guard.  Strangely, his voice held no specific malice, only something along the lines of the general dislike Slytherins had for Gryffindors.  Then again, maybe it wasn't so strange.  Someone who hated Lane in particular might be tempted to harm him, and to hell with the consequences.  Which could present a problem, considering that Lane had said the leaders wanted him in decent condition.

            "Just trying to stay in character."  Lane stood and crossed out of Remus's line of vision.  "And how are you today, Bailey?  Got any interesting tattoos lately?  I've heard they're all the rage."

            Though if the guard – Bailey? – didn't hate Lane now, the young man was certainly trying his best to achieve that state of affairs.  Even Remus knew better than to taunt Death Eaters about the Dark Mark.  They tended to take it about as well as the Inquisition took heresy.  Often using some of the same methods.  Though Death Eaters, having magic at their disposal, did tend to reach new levels of creativity.

            "That is enough out of you, pervert!  You mock what you do not understand."

            "Oh, well, you know how it is with these fads," Lane said dismissively.  "Here one day, gone the next.  Hardly worth learning about, really.  I mean, today it's a skull of snakes full of metaphors for the ultimate evil and destruction of the universe, tomorrow fluffy rabbit ears and feather boas.  Maybe you should invest in – "

            _Crack_.

            The slap made Lane stumble, but Remus didn't hear him fall, so he assumed the young man was still upright.  _And he said _I_ was stupid?_

            "I don't know what you think you're achieving, brat," the guard hissed, "but you aren't getting out of here.  And if you had half your father's sense, you wouldn't scorn the power the Master offers – "

            "If I had half _that_ man's sense, I'd be admiring rocks for their swift thinking," Lane sneered.  "And I will thank you not to call him my father.  I'd insult him, but I'm having enough difficulty keeping the conversation down to your level of comprehension as it is."

            There wasn't another slap – Lane had apparently backed out of range – but there was a sort of fleshy _thud_, and the sound of breath being driven from the young wolf's body.

            "There.  Take that.  And know that the only reason you still get any food or water is because I'm under orders to keep the pair of you healthy.  And be sure that I will be appealing those orders as soon as I get out of here."

            "Good.  Please go," Lane gasped, catching his breath.  "The stench was bothering me anyway."

            There was the sound of footsteps fading into the distance.  Lane reappeared, holding two water flasks and… something that Remus could only hope was from an identifiable animal.

            Setting his burdens down, Lane started to unravel the cords around Remus's legs.  "I wonder why they tied you up like this," he mused.  "I mean, it isn't like you have anywhere to go.  Maybe it was just to make it easier to carry you.  Or maybe you were thrashing about.  I know they gagged you because you kept mumbling.  Something about an 'Erin.'  A 'Lianne,' too, but mostly Erin.  Friends of yours?"

            Remus nodded gingerly.  His head felt as though someone had viciously attacked it with a block of stone, then dropped a hammer on it for good measure.  He wondered if that was just from being knocked unconscious, or if they'd beat up on him afterwards.  He wasn't likely to be able to tell either way, though, the way he ached right then.

             "Right.  There're your legs done."  Lane moved to the arm cords.  "Flex your legs muscles, quick, or you'll get cramps.  Bad ones.  Which, believe me, is not fun."  Remus did as he was told, but the cramps came anyway.  His breath hissed between his teeth.  "Still hurts?  Wait till I've got this rope done, then I'll see what I can do."

            When his arms were free, Remus, catching on to the idea, flexed them right away in the hopes that it would lessen the pain.  Lane nodded approvingly, then moved over to try to rub the leg cramps away.

            "Try massaging your own arms," he suggested.  "It might help."

            Remus obeyed, and eventually, the cramps were dealt with.  He still ached, of course, but it was at a more manageable level.  Lane handed him a water flask, and Remus poured liquid into his dry mouth.  Slowly.  Judging from what that guard said, they'd need to conserve water.

            "Better now?" Lane asked.

            Remus grimaced, rubbing his jaw.  "Slightly."  He took a good look at their surroundings.  "Where _are_ we?"

            "Storehouse."  Lane sat with his back to a wall, facing the door.  "They keep meat here during winter.  We don't usually keep prisoners, you see.  We prefer murder.  It's so much easier, and you don't have to waste food."

            "Reassuring."  Remus decided against sitting, and began stretching instead.  "May I ask a question?"

            "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this question?"  Lane nodded for him to go ahead anyway.

            "Well… why are you locked up?" Remus asked.  "I mean, I see why they don't want you free to roam the forest, but you said yourself wolves prefer to kill their enemies."

            "Oh.  That."  Lane's expression darkened, to match the shadow that haunted his eyes.  "Same as you.  I'm a hostage."

            "You?"  Remus blinked.  "Who are they holding you against?"

            "Isn't it obvious?"  Lane held his features commendably steady.  "Priscilla.  They don't just want her dead, they want to be the ones to kill her.  In front of – oh, God, in front of me – "  Lane choked, shoulders trembling with the effort of holding back sobs.

            The realization hit Remus that, though grief had matured Lane far faster than otherwise, the young wolf was still a teenager.  A lost, lonely teenager who knew that he was going to be used to bring about the death of the only person he still cared about in this world.

            He opened his mouth to say something comforting – then closed it again.  What could he say?  Words weren't going to make this better.  This wasn't a problem that would go away if you just looked at it from another angle, thought of another solution.  It was like living out the role of Benvolio to a despairing Romeo – except that it wasn't, because Benvolio got to walk away afterwards.  And Romeo at least got to take his own life.  He at least was granted a choice.  Lane and Priscilla never even had that.

            "Don't you dare pity me."  Lane's voice was no more than a whisper, as though anything more would bring forth the tears he fought to prevent.  "Don't you _dare_.  I know what you're thinking, and I _did_ choose this.  Nothing would have made me give Prissy up, do you understand?  _Nothing_.  I knew what was coming, and I did it anyway.  And I don't regret a moment.  I love her.  I love her more deeply than those – those _animals_ out there could even comprehend.  And that is worth death.  That is worth everything."

            "How can you love like that?"  Remus asked the question without meaning to say a word.

            Lane shook his head.  "I don't know.  Haven't you ever been in love?"

            Remus shook his head slowly.  "No.  Not like that."

            Lane smiled sadly.  "Then maybe I should be pitying you."

            Corner.

            Corner.

            Bed.

            Door.

            Other bed.

            Erin paced the room she and Lianne had been placed in.  Li had retreated to the bathroom, claiming to want to shower but pretty obviously hiding from Erin's angry mood.  Not that Erin really blamed her, after the way she'd snapped when Lianne had tried talking to her.  She'd have to apologize later… after she'd worked through this.

            If she ever worked through it.  She needed to collect her thoughts, to think everything out logically – but she couldn't think.  Every time she tried, her thoughts gravitated back to Remus and that _woman_.  And thinking about that – 

            _No.  Concentrate on pacing._

            Bed.

            Bathroom door.

            Corner.

            Corner.

            Other bed.

            _Ok… let's try this again.  Start from the beginning._

            She was in love with Remus.  Erin knew that much.  It wasn't the same sort of love it had been back in America, of course.  That had been one-sided, and all she'd had to work with was what little had been written in the book series.  It had been something like the adoration of a movie star.  A fangirl's idolization of an actor because of his stunning looks, and the charming role he played on the silver screen.  Love, yes, but…

            _Not like this._

            Erin had never been in love before, not really.  And what she'd started feeling upon meeting Remus – really seeing him, not just in her mind but right there in front of her – what she'd felt since then couldn't even be compared to that adoration.  She couldn't think of a metaphor big enough.

            She loved Remus.  It was like a revelation that had stolen over her, little by little.  And at the same time, she'd always known.  As though in her former love, she'd been remembering the future – or was that possible? who knew? – and remembering that she'd love him like this.

            Before, it hadn't mattered that Remus didn't love her, or even know she existed.  If J.K. Rowling had taken it into her head to pair him up with, oh, McGonagall, or Fleur, or someone, Erin would've been upset – but she would've gotten over it.  After all, books could be rewritten mentally.  That was practically what fans _did_.  It was only canon.

            That was then.

            This was entirely different.

            Erin didn't know whether she wanted to scream, or cry, or smash breakable objects against the wall.  When Remus had just been a group of words, it hadn't mattered whom he touched, whom he kissed, whom he _loved_.  But now, now it was everything.

            _She_ wanted to be the one he touched, kissed, loved.  She wanted him to want _her_, love _her_.  Not some wolf woman.  Not someone else.  Not _anyone_ else.

            But he didn't want her.  Wouldn't he rather have some other woman, a _real_ woman?  Someone older, more experienced, beautiful, charming, graceful – 

            Corner.

            Corner.

            Bed – 

             – _and probably seductive – _

            Door!

            Other bed – 

            _ – no, I will not think about that – _

            Other door!

            Corner!

            Corner!

            Xavier!

            Be-

            Erin screeched to a halt.  "What the hell are you doing in here?"

            "I knocked," the vampire prince said, smiling smoothly, "but you didn't seem to 'ear me."

            "That didn't answer anything."  Erin glanced towards the bathroom door.  She could hear the shower running.

            So could Xavier.  "Your friend sounds a bit busy," he said pleasantly.  "Per'aps you'd like to talk to me instead?"

            Erin narrowed her eyes.  "I thought you didn't like me."

            "Vherever vould you get zhat idea?"  He sounded genuinely surprised, and hurt.  "If I gave you zhat impression, Mistress Connor, I most sincerely apologize.  I 'ave a… somevhat volatile temper.  Especially vhere my sister is concerned.  But she does like you… and so vould I, if you gave me a chance."

            "I'm sure."  Erin avoided his eyes.  It was difficult.  She was used to looking people in the eye.  Not doing so seemed rude.  "I still want to know why you're here."

            "Stubborn, I see."  Xavier laughed lightly.  "Vell, I suppose I do owe you an explanation.  My sister asked me to come."

            "Priscilla?" Erin asked, startled.  She hadn't known what to expect, but that hadn't been it.  She'd thought… well, after everything Remus, Lianne, and even Miache had warned her about vampires, she'd honest thought it would be something more sinister.

            "I 'ave but vun sister," Xavier acknowledged, smiling.  "She says you promised to visit 'er?"

            "Well…"  Erin glanced around the room awkwardly, searching for something to look at.  Oh, it was so _hard_ not to look at him, it would make things so much easier…  "I was thinking more along the lines of tomorrow, or later on."

            "Ah."  Xavier looked down, crestfallen.  "I understand.  You are very busy, of course.  It must take time to paint zhose lovely portraits."

            "Oh – Li does that," Erin corrected him, flustered.  "I just watch."

            "Really?  Zhen per'aps you could take a break from vatching at some point?" Xavier asked hopefully.  "Prissy is so lonely, and you are ze first person to talk to 'er in… a very long time."

            Erin nodded sympathetically.  "Yes… I guess Lianne doesn't really need me there _all_ the time she's painting…"

            "Of course not," the prince said encouragingly.  "And company vould likely do you good.  Pretty young ladies should not be cooped up in vun room all day."

            Erin blushed, looking at her feet.  She wasn't all that pretty, not compared to some people, but when Xavier said it… something about the way he spoke made her feel like a raving beauty.

            "Vhat – you are not used to compliments?"  Xavier was surprised.  "I 'ope I 'aven't made you feel uncomfortable?  I vould never vant to do zhat."

            "Oh – no, it's fine."  Erin stared down at her hands, twisting her fingers around one another.  She didn't feel uncomfortable.  Not exactly.  Just – confused.  It was getting hard to follow her thoughts.  She must be tired.  It was late at night, wasn't it?  Yes.  She was tired.  That was it.

            "Are you all right, Mistress Connor?" Xavier asked concernedly.  "You look odd."

            "I…"  Erin blinked.  Her thoughts seemed to be moving more slowly than usual.  "I think maybe you should leave…"

            "Yes, zhat vould probably be best," Xavier agreed.  "Prizzilla vill be most pleased to see you."

            "What?" Erin asked confusedly.  She didn't remember saying anything about going with him.  But she must have.  Why else would he be talking about it?  "Yes… yes, she will, won't she?  She's a nice girl."

            "Yes, isn't she?"  Xavier slid an arm around Erin's shoulder.  She tensed as his hand came up to touch the side of her face, turning it towards his.

            _This is wrong._

            No, what was she thinking?  There was nothing wrong with this.  Xavier was just taking her to see his sister, that was all.  And he was steadying her.  Because she was tired.  It all made perfect sense.

            "You have pretty eyes," Erin said hazily, trying to keep her mind on the conflict inside her head.

            "So I've been told."  Xavier smiled sweetly.  "Come vith me, Erin.  Ve'll go see Prizzilla."

            _No.  Say no.  Don't go anywhere with him.  He's a vampire!_

            "I…"  Erin's voice died away, drowned in the brilliant pools of silver-blue.  They weren't eyes so much as stars, come to rest in a pale, perfect face.  Stars that granted wishes… stars that offered dreams…

            She leaned her head against Remus's warm hand on her cheek – but no, that was Xavier's hand, cool and calming.  Why was she thinking of Remus now, with Xavier here?  What could Remus offer her that Xavier couldn't?

            _His love.  You want his love.  You want _Remus_, not this.  Whatever this is._

            "Ahhh.  I see."  Xavier's voice was soft, almost a hiss.

            "See what?" Erin asked bemusedly.  Had she spoken out loud?  She hadn't meant to…

            _He's reading your mind!_

            The realization came just as Xavier grabbed both her shoulders and held her facing him.  Well, she assumed he grabbed her.  It seemed as though his hands moved from their previous positions to bruising holds on her shoulders.

            "I'll scream," Erin threatened, her breathing shaky.

            "Try."  Xavier smirked.  "You really should 'ave agreed to come ze first time I asked, Mistress Connor."

            "Where are we going?" Erin demanded, though aware that she was not exactly in a position to be making demands.

            "Exactly vhere I told you," Xavier replied, with all the charm of a vampire prince.  "To see my sister."

            "It's dangerous to keep them here."

            "And what do you want to do with them, Jonas?  Take them with us while we attack the vampires?"  Ferox glared at his Trademaster.

            "Of course not," Jonas snapped.  "We should do what we've always done – kill them.  We've never bothered about hostages before, why start now?"

            "Because now the bloodsuckers have something we want," Darren spoke up.  "Or, more accurately – something our Master wants.  And you wouldn't want to disappoint our Master, would you, Jonas?"

            The Trademaster scowled, but said nothing as the Alpha continued his final review of their attack strategy.  "As I was saying, the hostages will remain in the storehouse under the supervision of wolves chosen by Darren.  You've made your choices already, of course?"

            Darren nodded, smirking.  "Oh, yes.  And it will almost be a pity not to be able to stay and watch."

            Ferox narrowed his eyes, but let it pass.  If the Huntmaster wanted to be vindictive, let him.  They were only hostages.

            "See that they remain in decent condition," he ordered.  "They aren't to be harmed until I give the order."

            "I understand perfectly," Darren said calmly.

            "And how exactly do you plan to prove you have these hostages if you can't produce them?" Jonas wanted to know.  "The vampires aren't stupid."

            "I'll send for them when the time comes," Ferox said irritably.  "The tribe isn't that far from our stronghold."

            "As I've mentioned many times over the years," Darren said pointedly.  The proximity of the two groups had always been a sore spot with the Huntmaster.  He felt it was bad for defense.  Which was possible… but it was turning out to be quite good for offense.

            "We will not get into that now."  Ferox frowned at the other wolf.  "You understand what it is your groups are to do?"

            "Search the hallways," Darren replied promptly.  "Take out as many of the bloodsuckers as we can."

            "And…"

            "Find that princess."  Darren rolled his eyes.  "Isn't that the point of the hostages?  Make the girl give herself up?"

            "Only take her prisoner if the opportunity presents itself," Ferox told him.  "Your main purpose is to take out the lower level vampires.  The higher level ones will either flee, and be caught by one of Jonas's units, or else they will flock to their queen – where I will be waiting, with the rest of our wolves."

            "And how do you intend to take out Desdemona?" Jonas asked irately.  "In case you've forgotten, she _does_ have guards.  The vampires aren't likely to let a wolf within a hundred yards of their queen."

            Ferox merely smiled.  "Whoever said _I_ was going to deal with her?"

            Miache tapped her fingernails thoughtfully on the surface of the "mirror," as the brown-haired witch still called it.  She'd tried to explain to the woman that it was in fact called a Glacialispeculum, but Lianne had decided that "mirror" was easier to pronounce.  The vampire smiled.  Even for a witch, the woman was rather silly sometimes.  She probably hadn't even noticed her "mirror" was missing.  And Miache didn't intend to enlighten her.

            If anyone had mentioned to Miache that taking the Glacialispeculum might technically be considered theft, the vampire would quite honestly say that the thought had never occurred to her.  And it would be true.  It wasn't theft if Miache was doing it.  It was simply… borrowing.  Not without permission, because Phoenixes simply did not bother with anything so mundane as permission.  Besides, who was going to deny someone with the power to turn a human being to ashes with a mere thought?

            Miache gazed down at her reflection in the ice.  She was one of the privileged few vampires able to see her image in a mirror, and she took a moment to enjoy the pleasure.  She knew she was beautiful.  And the thought wasn't vanity, simply because it was Miache who was thinking it.

            But the crystals on the sides of the device continued to blink, spoiling her concentration.  The western one was a pale green – Erin had left her own device in the off position.  The eastern one, the wolf's crystal, was scarlet.  She could contact him if she chose – but why bother?  Lianne might suggest rectifying any damage her comments about Xavier might have done… but that would require an apology.  And Miache did not apologize.  Not unless she got something out of it, at any rate.

            But the northern crystal, the one Miache was interested in, blinked a faint blue.  Dumbledore had kept the key Glacialispeculum, which was always able to receive communications.  She hoped he kept it where she would under the circumstances, which was with him all the time.

            Miache pressed the northern crystal, then sat back to wait.  It was very late at night, and while vampires were notorious night owls, she knew humans often were not.

            But her reflection faded to show that of the wizard relatively quickly.  "Lady Miache," Dumbledore said, nodding politely.  "I must say, I didn't expect you to be the one to contact me."

            "Ze volf 'asn't done so?" Miache asked, mildly surprised.  She'd had him pegged as the type to report in regularly.

            "No, I'm afraid not.  But I see no cause for worry as yet."  Dumbledore studied the vampire carefully.  "Unless that is why you've called me?"

            "No," Miache said calmly.  "Not yet.  But I did zhink you ought to know – ze volves seem to be preparing for battle.  Or razzer – a more immediate battle zhan zhey 'ave been considering."

            "You think they plan to attack soon?"  Dumbledore leaned forward intently.

            "Zhey may.  Lupin may be able to convince zhem not to, if 'e is particularly persuasive.  And clever."

            "Remus is extremely clever," Dumbledore replied.  "Persuasive… well, I hope so."  He frowned.  "May I ask how you know the wolves are readying for battle?"

            "Animal spies."  Miache smiled slightly.  "Ze volves 'ave never seemed to grasp zhat certain animals vill give information to my people.  Ve 'ave never chosen to enlighten zhem."

            "I can imagine."  Dumbledore smiled, but his eyes were clouded with worry.  "And what is it you think I can do about this upcoming attack?"

            "I – "  Miache was cut off by an abrupt knock at her door.  "Vun moment."  She stood and crossed the room swiftly to fling the door open.  "What?" she snarled, in her native French.

            "Lady Miache, ma'am."  The young Court messenger bobbed a nervous half-bow.

            "Well, get on with it," she commanded, when nothing more seemed forthcoming.

            "Her Majesty wants to see you, Lady," the messenger said, bobbing again.  Miache wondered if the boy ever got seasick.

            "I'm sure she does.  Has she sent a reason?"

            "The wolves, Lady.  They're planning to attack."

            Miache sighed.  "Grant me patience with imbeciles.  I am well aware of that, boy.  Unless you have more pressing grounds for me to – "

            "You don't understand, Lady!"  The boy was so upset he didn't seem to realize that he'd just interrupted a Phoenix.  "They're planning to attack _now_!"

            Miache blanched.  It was impossible to tell with a vampire, but she could _feel_ the difference.  "Now… at this moment?"

            "Soon, Lady," the messenger said, relieved at being taken seriously at last.  "Her Majesty said probably by dawn."

            Miache nodded quickly.  "Tell the queen I will come as soon as I end my current business."

            The messenger nodded, and darted off down the corridor without delay.  Miache turned and went back to the Glacialispeculum.  "You 'eard zhat?"  She reverted to English for the wizard.  "And understood?"

            "Most of it," Dumbledore confirmed, eyes sharper than she'd ever seen them before.  "Enough to grasp the situation, certainly.  I believe you will need some extra help."

            "Good.  I vas about to demand it."  Miache considered things a moment.  "Vun of your Aurors?"

            "One of the Circle, yes," Dumbledore agreed.  "He should be able to get there within a few hours.  You'll let him into the tribe?"

            "Somevun vill," Miache said with a shrug.  "I vill likely be othervise engaged.  Do you need anyzhing else?"

            "I was about to ask the same of you."  Dumbledore shook his head.  "No, Lady."

            "Zhen I must attend my queen.  Goodbye."

            "Goodb- "  Miache cut the connection.

            "They're planning their attack."

            Remus looked over at Lane.  It was the first time the wolf had spoken since their discussion earlier.  "I beg your pardon?"

            "The clan.  They're going to attack soon."  Lane sat with his back against the wall, eyes fixed on the door.

            "You mean… the vampires?" Remus asked cautiously.

            "Who else?  Unless they've developed a new hatred for Paris in the last several hours."

            "How can you tell?"  Remus ignored the second half of the comment.

            "Because our guard just left."  Lane finally transferred his gaze from the door to Remus.  "Don't tell me you didn't hear?"

            "Actually… I didn't," Remus had to admit.

            "City wolves."  Lane rolled his eyes in disgust.  "You don't listen, do you?  Pay attention to what's going on around you.  How else do you expect to find anything out?  People here won't tell you anything, that's for sure."

            Remus reminded himself not to be insulted.  "So if the guard left, what does that mean for us?  Can we try to escape?"

            Lane smiled sourly.  "From here?  I doubt it.  And anyway, what would you have us do once we're out?"

            "I don't know.  Anything!" Remus snapped.  "It's got to be better than sitting around doing nothing!"

            "We aren't doing nothing," Lane said calmly.

            "No?  What, pray tell, are we doing, then?" Remus demanded.

            "Thinking of a plan while we wait patiently for them to leave," Lane replied.  "Or at least, that's what _I'm_ doing.  You're just wasting energy shouting."

            "Oh."  The anger abruptly left Remus – or at least directed itself away from Lane.  "Sorry."

            Lane shrugged, and settled back into his door-watching position.

            Remus tried to imitate the young man, but his patience was clearly not so well developed as Lane's.  "Do you think they'll leave guards on us?"

            "Obviously.  It would be awfully stupid not to."  Lane smile was sad, this time.  "This isn't a storybook, city wolf.  True love and honor don't always triumph, and deceit and evil aren't always stupid."

            "Why, Delaney, I'm surprised at you."

            The two men looked up sharply at the door.  A pretty young lady wolf stood there, smiling.  "I mean, _really_," she continued, twirling her dark brown hair around a finger, "calling your own clan evil.  That just isn't very nice at _all_."

            "Why don't you go follow the army, Ianfu?" Lane suggested, keeping his eyes on her suspiciously.

            "Rude little brat, aren't you?"  Ianfu didn't look particularly offended, making Remus wonder just what kind of woman she was.  "Anyway, they're busy now.  They asked me and some of the other girls to keep an eye on you two."

            "The girls and me," Remus corrected automatically.

            Ianfu raised her eyebrows.  "So they taught you grammar in the big city," she said.  "I'm impressed."

            "It's against guard protocol to chat with one's prisoners," Lane said loudly.  "Either make your point or sit down and guard."

            The wolf woman gave Lane a cool look.  "As a matter of fact, I _do_ have a point.  The Alpha wants to speak to you before he goes out."

            "One last attempt to turn me away from the light?"  Lane crossed his arms over his chest.  "I'll stay here, thanks."

            "Oh, are you under the impression you had a choice?"  Ianfu smiled sweetly.  "Listen, _little boy_ – you are a prisoner.  Got that?  And I am your guard.  You are going to do what I say, when I say.  And right now, I say you're going to see the Alpha."

            "The wonderful Alpha of Oz," Lane sneered.  "Tell him I recognize no Alpha."

            "Tell him yourself."  Ianfu folded her arms to mimic Lane's.  "Do you want to know what he says he'll do if you don't come?"

            "I really couldn't care less," Lane said evenly.

            "He'll cut a finger off dear little Alacra."  Ianfu smirked as Lane blanched.  "Don't care for that, do you?  Not so indifferent as you thought?  And he'll _keep_ cutting fingers off every ten minutes, until you come to beg him not to."

            "He wouldn't dare, surely," Remus spoke up, too horrified to keep silent.  "Not his own daughter?"

            "You don't think so?"  Lane shook his head, and stood up.  "I know Ferox Alpha, possibly better than anyone else in the clan."  His mouth was a thin line as he walked over to Ianfu, and she opened the door to let him out.

            "At least you have the sense not to bolt."  She smiled coldly.  "I trust I don't have to tell you what will happen to Alacra if you try that."

            "I can imagine for myself, thank you," Lane replied.  He glanced back at Remus.  "Take care, city wolf.  Watch out for yourself."

            Remus nodded as the woman led Lane away.  _Take care._  Well, now that he was alone, he'd have to.

            "Why have you brought me here?"

            Ferox Alpha looked down at his son.  Normally, he was on a level with the boy – if anything, Delaney was taller than he was.  But now, the boy had been thrown most satisfactorily on the floor, and showed no inclination to rise.  Possibly that had something to do with the foot that had, just moments ago, connected with his stomach.  Ferox was honestly rather impressed the wolf could talk at all.

            "To talk to you.  Son."  Ferox let no hint of paternal affection color the word.

            "Isn't it enough that I'm here?" Delaney asked.  "You don't need to insult me as well."

            The Alpha's expression darkened, but inwardly he was just a little pleased that the boy could hold his own verbally.  But that didn't make up for the boy's other sins.

            "Keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open it," Ferox ordered.  "You know the laws of the clan.  Three times, you have defied them."

            "Actually, if you must know, it was probably closer to eleven," Delaney interrupted.  "There were only three times I was stupid enough to get caught."

            "So much the worse for you."  Ferox scowled.  "Numbers aside, you have defied the clan's laws.  But, as is your ancient right, you may choose to participate in trial by combat to cleanse yourself of – "

            "Are you saying you want to fight me?" Delaney asked incredulously.  "You're mad!"

            "And you," Ferox said coldly, "are as foolish as that city wolf.  Trial by combat means only that you must fight in a battle and survive.  I offer you one last chance – join the battle against the vampires.  If you live – "

            "Don't waste your breath," Delaney cut him off again.  "I'll eat an entire basket of wolfsbane first."

            Ferox nodded curtly.  He hadn't expected the boy to take him up on the offer, but tradition required it to be made.  "Then Ianfu will secure you in your den until further notice."

            Delaney frowned.  "What about the storeroom?"

            "Well, I'm hardly going to put you back with Lupin, am I?" Ferox said.  "Not after you seemed to be so fond of one another.  You might escape, and then where would I be?  But," he reconsidered," on second thought, perhaps not your den, after all.  Not somewhere you know quite so well.  Ianfu!"

            "Sir?"  The wolf woman straightened from where she'd been lounging against the wall.

            "Take Delaney to Alacra's den.  I'm sure he will enjoy being with his sister.  Or at least," Ferox smiled cruelly, "with her body."

            And he drew a vicious pleasure from the boy's gasp, and the sharp pain that flared in his eyes.

            "They killed the little girl?  Alacra Alphasdaughter?"  Queen Desdemona shook her head.  "It doesn't make sense."

            "I don't know, Majesty," Miache said bitterly.  "It makes perfect sense to me.  A ritual sacrifice before a battle is common among barbarians.  And you'd probably have to go about as young as she is to find a virgin wolf woman, anyway."

            "Lady Phoenix!"  The Countess Futotta Sekihei, the one Miache knew Lianne kept referring to as "that awful fat woman," was shocked.  "You shouldn't say such things!"

            "As you wish, my lady," Miache said, mockingly courteous.  "I shall refrain from speaking the truth, as it appears to offend your delicate sensibilities."

            "Miache!"  The queen scowled at her.  "That is enough!  This is a serious situation, and you will _not_ antagonize the Countess."

            Miache nodded obediently.  She really ought not to pester Sekihei so – all that extra weight had to be burden enough – but it was almost too easy to get under the woman's skin.  Even under the circumstances, she could manage without even trying.

            "My apologies," she added, when the queen did not continue.

            Desdemona, apparently aware she would get no more out of her Phoenix, sighed.  "Well, so the girl is dead.  It's a pity, but it can't be helped."

            "I don't see why it's such a pity," Hera commented.  Ever since Priscilla's disgrace, the second princess had been included in the queen's councils.  Miache suspected it had originally been more to fill the extra chair with someone who was not Xavier than because Hera deserved it.  But the girl had actually turned out to have a decent head on her shoulders – or she would, if she could be persuaded to let go of a grudge.  Such as the one she held against the wolves.

            "After all," the princess added, "isn't it just one less enemy to worry about?"

            "A nine-year-old girl is hardly an enemy," the queen said sharply.  She shook her head.  "Sometimes, I really don't know…"  She snapped herself out of it.  "At any rate, informative as the news is, it has little bearing on the upcoming battle."

            "Indeed," said Commander Kataki.  She wasn't in charge of the guards – they were their own force, which protected only the royals – but she was head of any battle operations.  Before the tensions with the wolves had increased, the post had been left vacant.  Now… well, if it weren't for the fact that her tribe was likely to be annihilated, Miache could almost have been glad the battle with the wolves had come about.  It put Kataki in a position where her talents could be most useful.

            "Since your Majesty brings it up," the commander skillfully took control of the conversation, steering it for her purposes, "I suspect that the wolves will attack just after dawn.  From then onward, our powers will only wane until nightfall.  So rather than letting them hole us up in here, our best option is to go out and meet them."

            "Wouldn't it be safer to just wait and let them wear themselves out till dark?" Sekihei asked.

            "And how do you plan to do that?" Kataki wanted to know.  "We can't seal the doors against their combined strength, and we don't have the numbers to hold them off once they get inside."

            Sekihei was still stuck on the first part of the statement.  "We can't seal our doors?"

            "Wolves have extraordinary strength," Miache spoke up.  "We can close the doors, certainly.  The problem lies in keeping the doors attached to the doorframes."

            "Well, why don't you do something?" Viscount Raoul Oumyou asked.  Not accusingly, as he tended to get along well with Miache, but still slightly pointed.  "You are, after all, a Phoenix."

            Miache nodded gracefully.  "As a matter of fact, my lord, I _have_ done something.  I have called for help."

            There was a general burst of dismay from the other five people in the room.

            "Was that really necessary, Miache?" the queen asked sharply, when the uproar died down.  "We cannot appear to be weak."

            "We will not," the red-haired vampire said calmly.  "I didn't ask for an army, after all.  One man can't possibly make such a difference."

            "One man?  Then I must say I don't think much of whoever sent you this help, Lady Phoenix," Sekihei sniffed.

            "I'm sure they don't think much of you, Countess, dear," Miache said sweetly.  "I am merely following the age-old vampire tradition – brains over brawn.  Surely you'd prefer a good strategist to – "

            "Majesty?"  A messenger poked her head into the room, and quailed as six pairs of eyes pierced her.  "Um… there's a man here?"

            Queen Desdemona shot Miache a Look, letting the Phoenix know that, later on, there would be a discussion about proper respect for authority.  "Send someone to guide him in, then."

            "But Majesty, he's already in!  He's standing," she glanced down the hall, "just down there!"

            "Really, Lady, breaching security at a time like this?"  Kataki glowered at the Phoenix.

            Miache shrugged.  "It's none of _my_ doing how he got in," she said coolly.  "I only sent for him."  She eyed the Commander.  "If you must ask questions, you might wonder how exactly he got underground in the first place."

            "The guard let him come down, Lady," the messenger spoke up.  "She said he was awfully convincing."

            Miache's eyebrows knitted faintly together.  She'd been almost unconsciously expecting Black, but that didn't precisely describe him.  Not to the extent that he could get around vampires.

            "Well, send him in anyway."  The queen glared at Miache as the messenger left.  "If this endangers our people in anyway, Lady Phoenix, I will hold you personally responsible."

            Miache nodded deferentially, eyes on the door.  After a moment, a tall wizard entered, black robes swishing.  The Phoenix raised an eyebrow.  Perhaps Dumbledore knew something she didn't.  Either that, or he was going senile, as some of his adversaries tried to claim.

            It had to be one of the two.  Because Severus Snape was quite definitely _not_ the man Miache would have chosen for this situation.

Author's Note:  Well.  That's a nice ending place, at least for the time being.  This part turned out to be somewhat shorter than I'd originally intended.  It was meant to be three chapters.  Then it got cut to two, because the last chapter is going to be really long.  Then I realized I need more stuff to happen to get events to the point I want them at.  So this is a single-chapter part.  As the next two will be.

I'd also like to apologize if I confused everyone with that shifting of the chapters.  It confused _me_, anyway, even if no one else had a problem.

Disclaimer:  Any and all Harry Potter characters, settings, and other references belong to JK Rowling.  The vampires and werewolves belong to me.  _Crash and Burn_ lyrics belong to Savage Garden.  I think that covers it…

Thank you to everyone who's been reviewing this!: *Tanya*, Arwen, Kali Shadow, Waterfall, Annabel Lee, Alarium, Ally, Melon, Unicorn777, Diva937, Too Lazy To Sign In (or Evanne Martine Hall, whichever you prefer), LilyAyl.  I love you all!

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	14. Cold As Death

Dreaming Of You

Author's Note:  Wow, I think I actually got this chapter done pretty quickly!  That's got to be a first, huh?  Oh, and on a very happy note, I was thrilled to learn that I've now got over one hundred reviews!  Thank you, everyone!

**_Part 13 – Cold As Death_**

**Chapter 23**

_If you need to fall apart_

_I can mend a broken heart_

_If you need to crash and crash and burn_

_You're not alone._

            "Ok, I am seriously starting to get worried now."  Lianne sat on her bed and stared unhappily around the room.  There was no denying it.  Erin was not there.

            _Where she would have gone, I don't know,_ Lianne thought, while aware that the actual problem might not be where Erin would have _chosen_ to go.  Images of Xavier were creeping sinisterly into her thoughts as she remembered Miache's warnings.

            But she ought to have been perfectly safe!  Lianne had been just over in the next room, all Erin would've had to do was shout.  And what about her iron ring?  Surely she'd have remembered to use that.

Surely.  Hopefully.

            Lianne groaned.  "I have got to be the worst friend in the history of creation.  I can't _believe_ I left her alone!"

            "I can't believe you're talking to yourself.  Do you make a habit of it?"

            Lianne turned to stare at the open door in disbelief.  "Snape?"  She shook her head.  "Wonderful.  Just wonderful.  Y'know, I think there must be some spirit somewhere, like Fate or something, that sat down and actually _thought_ about how it could actively make my life even more miserable than it was thirty seconds ago.  Because that is the only reason I can possibly come up with for you being here."

            "I asked 'im to come," Miache said calmly.  Seeing Lianne's expression, she added, "Not 'im specifically, of course, but for vun of ze Circle.  Dumbledore felt Severus vould be ze best for ze job.  Possibly because 'e speaks French."

            Lianne ignored this for the moment.  "Miache, have you seen Erin?"

            Miache opened her mouth, starting to form the word "no" – and a series of realizations crowded across her face.  The word she eventually said was, "Xavier?"

            "I don't know!  If I knew, would I be sitting here asking you if you'd seen her?" Lianne snapped.

            "What in the world are you two babbling about?" Snape wanted to know.

            "Erin's missing and we're afraid Xavier took her," Lianne told him.  "Shut up."

            "The prince?  Why would he waste his time on her?" Snape asked, distaste plain in his voice.

            "Because she insulted 'im," Miache replied.  "And 'e vants to control 'er.  Do you see any ozzer unattached 'uman females around?"

            Snape rolled his eyes.  "Well, if he wanted to kill her, I'm sure he'd do it here and let you clean up.  You two worry; I'll use your Glacialispeculum to talk to Dumbledore."

            Lianne looked blank.  "Use my _what_?"

            "Mirror," Miache supplied.

            "Oh."  Lianne narrowed her eyes.  "You won't.  You can just get your own!"

            "There aren't any more," Snape said with forced patience.  "You have one, that girl has one, Lupin has one, and Dumbledore has one.  That's all of them.  I need to report back that I arrived safely.  Give me yours."

            "You really are an unmannered pig, aren't you?" Lianne said in disgust.  "Didn't your parents ever teach you the Muggle magic words?"

            Snape sneered.  "_Please_."

            Lianne pulled her mirror thing from under her pillow.  "Original hiding place," was Snape's comment.  "No one will ever think to look there."

            Lianne glared at him.  "Look, Snape, I'm not in a tolerant mood.  The queen refuses to stand against Voldemort, my friend has gone missing, and there is a war on.  If you give me a headache on top of all that, I will go away and think quietly about what to do to you."

            Snape started to scoff, then reconsidered this statement.  After a moment, he took the mirror with what, for him, passed as politeness.

            Miache raised an eyebrow.  "I didn't zhink it vas much of a threat," she said as Snape moved over to sit on the other bed to contact Dumbledore.  "Anyvay – you're sure she's missing?  She 'asn't just vandered off somevhere?"

            "Erin isn't stupid," Lianne said defensively.

            "Zhat vasn't vhat I said," Miache pointed out.  "I _said_, could she 'ave just gone somevhere vithout telling you?"

            "No."  Lianne was firm.  "No, Erin wouldn't do that."

            Miache sighed.  "I'd 'oped zhat might be it.  I'm afraid ve don't 'ave anyvun to spare to search for your friend."

            "I'll go myself," Lianne began.

            "You won't," Snape snapped, looking up from waiting for Dumbledore to answer his end of the mirror.  "You're here for a reason, the same as I am.  You'll stay and try to convince the queen not to join with You-Know-Who."

            "And what about Erin?" Lianne demanded.  "Am I supposed to just forget about her while Xavier does who-_knows-_what to her?"

            "You're supposed to do what you were sent for."

            "But – "

            "'E's right, you know," Miache said quietly.  "Maybe vhen ze battle is over.  You 'ave the duty of an Auror."

            "I'm _not_ an Auror," Li protested forlornly.  She sighed.  "I always thought it had to be an awful job."

            Miache's smile was as sympathetic as it ever got.  "Now you know."

            Sitting alone in a prison cell is very boring.  Remus had always thought this would be the case, but it had never really registered exactly how boring it would be until Lane had been taken away.  And it was _very_ boring indeed.  He'd tried counting the ants scurrying busily across the ceiling, but they moved too fast, and there wasn't much light anyway.  He'd given up at about thirty-seven.

            "Hello, Remus."

            He looked up.  Bella was leaning in the open doorframe.  Briefly, the hope of overpowering her and bolting crossed his mind, but then he remembered that he was dealing with another werewolf.  She was probably just as strong as he was.  If not stronger.

            "How did you know my name?" he asked finally.

            "Darren told me."  She smiled.  "It's a very nice name, by the way.  Remus Lupin."

            "Er… thank you?" Remus said.  "Excuse me, but are you the new guard?"

            "Your guard, anyway," Bella told him.  "Ianfu is staying with Delaney.  Poor girl."

            "He's not coming back here, then?" Remus asked, startled.

            "Hardly."  Bella laughed.  "He has his own little prison cell.  With his sister, I believe."

            "Oh."  Remus nodded, relieved.  "She's all right, then?"

            Bella paused.  "In a manner of speaking."

            "How?" Remus demanded, concern for the little girl coloring his voice.

            "Well, they didn't cut any fingers off."  Bella smiled again.  "Don't worry yourself about her.  It's quite sweet, but the effort is wasted."

            The wolf woman entered the room, closing the door behind her.  Remus watched apprehensively as she sat down next to him.

            "You know, most guards prefer to stay _outside_ the cells," he said, a new set of worries starting to form.  "That's why they're called 'guards,' instead of 'prisoners.'"

            Bella's laughter was full and rich, but Remus couldn't help noticing it sounded slightly artificial, as though she'd spent quite a lot of time practicing, to achieve that sound.  "So you're amusing, as well as sweet.  Are all city wolves like you, or are you one of a kind?"

            "Oh – I'm nothing special," Remus said hastily, shifting position so that she wasn't quite so close to him.  "Just another wolf."

            "Nothing special?" Bella repeated, raising her eyebrows.  "After you defied the Alpha like that?"

            "Did I?"  That wasn't how Remus remembered things going.  "I think it was more along the lines of really bad timing than actual defiance."

            "Say whatever you like."  Bella moved closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.  "_I_ think it was tremendously brave."

            Remus swallowed hard.  "Would you mind horribly not putting your hand there?"  Bella smiled enigmatically and traced a finger down his collarbone.  Remus shivered.  "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

            "Wasn't it?" Bella said softly.  "Are you sure?"

            Remus stood abruptly.  "Yes.  I'm quite sure."

            Bella unfolded herself, and rose to her feet.  "I really don't see why," she said resentfully.  "Don't you think I'm pretty?"

            Remus paused.  On one hand, he didn't want to encourage her… but on the other, she was still his jailor, and insulting her wouldn't be a very good move, either.  And – she was very pretty.  With long wavy blond hair, big brown eyes, and a body like hers, it would be very hard _not_ to be pretty.

            "Yes," he said at last.  "But that doesn't have anything to do with it."

            "Doesn't it?"  Bella frowned.  "What are you talking about?"

            "Well…"  Remus stared awkwardly at his feet.  "Love, for one thing."

            "What's _that_ got to do with anything?" Bella wanted to know.  Remus looked up in shock.  "Well, what?  Love is what that boy says he feels for that vampire girl.  Most of the time, it's just a pretty word for lust.  And when it isn't – if it ever isn't – love only hurts.  This isn't love.  It's sex."

            "One might say that the two go together," Remus said faintly.

            "One might say a lot of things," Bella agreed.  "I don't.  All I say is that the sort of love you're talking about isn't worth the pain.  And if you can have the good without the bad, why not take it?"

            "Love isn't just about sex," Remus objected.

            "It is," Bella said flatly.  "Sex and pain, they drive the world.  The sooner you learn that, the sooner you'll understand a whole lot more about life."

            "Such as what?  How to manipulate?  How to hurt?"  Remus shook his head.  "No.  That's not what life should be."

            "Should be?" Bella echoed in disbelief.  "Whoever said anything about _should be_?  I've been talking about what _is_.  Sure, eternal love would be nice.  So would world peace, and an end to famine, and a whole lot of other things.  But none of those things are real.  Love is pain and sex, like everything else.  Anyone who thinks differently is only going to get used."

            Remus looked at her a moment.  "Like you want to use me?"

            Bella stared at him.  "What?"

            "You heard me.  Lane told me why you want to seduce me.  So that you can have a higher place in the clan."  Remus looked at her, eyes cold.  "Or do you deny it?"

            Bella smiled sadly.  "Of course not.  It's the only way a woman can get _any_ rights at all here.  Through the man she mates with.  Any wolf woman would tell you the same."

            "Yes, and what would happen to me after you got your rights?" Remus asked sourly.  "I'd be in the position you are now, I suppose.  Except that I wouldn't have a way out."

            "Oh, _no_!  I suppose Delaney told you that."  Bella sighed.  "No, you would have all the rights of any other clan male.  _I_, of course, would be ranked above you, but then," she smiled, "what woman doesn't control her mate?"

            Remus said nothing.  But his thoughts turned to Lily and James, and Sirius and Lianne.

            "Really, Remus, it wouldn't be so bad for you, being my mate," Bella said, approaching him again.  "You'd get out of this cell, for one thing.  And Ganrou is a respected clan.  Life here is nowhere near so terrible as Delaney makes it out to be.  And," she put her hand on Remus's chest, looking up into his eyes, "you would have me."

            Remus shook his head slowly.  "You don't understand – "

            "No, _you_ don't understand!" Bella burst out.  "You're handsome, you're clever, and you're kinder and gentler than any other wolf in the entire clan!  If you don't want me, I'll have to go to one of them, and you don't _know_ what they do to their women!  And you _wouldn't_.  I know that, I can see it in your eyes.  You'd never hit me, or rape me, or make me do anything I didn't want to do.  You're the only chance I have to get out of that life.  _Please_, Remus.  Don't make me go to one of them.  Don't send me away."

            Remus hesitated.  And she took shameless advantage of that pause.

            Bella wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his head down to hers, and she kissed him.  No – not so much _kissed_ as _devoured_.  Her lips and tongue moved hungrily, trying to take him and make him be hers.  Her hands were hot against the bare skin of his back and neck, holding him too tightly for escape.

            And just for a moment, forgetting that he had to resist this, that he couldn't give in, Remus responded, kissing her back.  She pressed against him eagerly, and he could feel the contours of her body burning into his.  She moved her hands away from his back and took hold of his, placing them so one palm was on her hip, and one on her breast.

            The strange feeling of soft, feminine flesh under his hands startled Remus into jerking away.  His face burned crimson as he realized what he'd been doing.  _Oh, good Lord, she almost got me,_ he thought in horror.  _Lane's right.  I _am_ an idiot._

            "Why did you stop?" Bella asked, pouting.  "Don't you like to kiss?"

            "You know perfectly well why I stopped," Remus said, backing away from her.  "I don't want – that.  Not from you."

            "But – "  Bella stopped, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.  "Not from me, you said?"

            "Um…"

            "So there's someone else, is there?"  Bella smiled slowly.  "I see.  That explains your feelings about love.  You have a lady friend back home in England, I suppose?"

            "You could say that," Remus admitted, the thought of Erin crossing his mind.  Maybe this would make her leave him alone, if she thought he was taken already.

            "Huh.  And she let you come all this way alone?"  Bella shook her head.  "I don't think too much of _her_, then."  She stopped.  "Unless…"

            "Unless what?"  Remus was starting to get a really bad feeling about this.

            Bella laughed suddenly.  "She doesn't know, does she?  I don't believe it.  You fell for a – a _human_ girl, didn't you?  And you haven't told her you're a wolf, have you?"

            "What makes you say that?" Remus stalled, wondering how she could have guessed, and whether she'd know if he lied about it.

            "You," Bella told him, "have it written all over your face.  It's those gorgeous eyes of yours.  Very expressive, those eyes.  Not much good at keeping secrets, are you?"

            "I… suppose not," Remus said, resisting the impulse to raise a hand to his eyes.

            "You should have told her, you know," Bella said conversationally.  "Your girlfriend."

            Remus raised an eyebrow.  "_You_ are giving me romantic advice?"

            "Not exactly.  I mean, you must know you'll never see her again," Bella pointed out.

            "I'm aware of that."  Remus sighed.

            "So… why didn't you?" Bella asked curiously.

            "What, tell her?"  Remus shrugged.  "It was never the right time.  Besides… I don't think she'd have taken it well."

            "Humans don't," Bella agreed.  "They see the monster, instead of the person."

            "Then why do you think I should have told her?" Remus asked, confused.

            "So that you'd get over it," Bella said frankly.  "It would never work – a wolf and a human.  Delaney's idea, of getting a vampire, that one might've made it, if it hadn't been those two trying it.  But a human?  No.  They think we're monsters.  Tell them, and they run."

            "Not all of them," Remus protested.

            "No?"  Bella laughed shortly.  "Think she'd be different, do you?  Think she'd've stayed?"

            Remus looked away.  "No.  I don't think that."

            One corner of Bella's mouth turned up.  "Then you're smart."

            "Unfortunately."  Remus stared at the wall.  "Maybe it's better like this."

            "That you never told her you're a wolf?"

            "No.  That I never…"  He stopped, remembering where he was.

            But Bella seemed to hear the unspoken words.  "You never said you loved her," she finished.  There was a perplexed crease in her forehead.  "You never even slept with her, did you?"

            "Of course not!" Remus snapped indignantly.  "What kind of man do you take me for?"

            "A _man_," Bella responded.  "Most men can't wait to bed the women they say they care for.  You really think you love her, don't you?"

            Remus didn't say anything for a very long time, as he thought of Erin.  Her smiles, her sighs, her bright blue-green eyes that followed him around the room when she didn't think he was paying attention.  Her voice, which held a note of sadness that Lianne said had never been there before.  Her laughter, natural and lively, that was so far away from Bella's practiced amusement.  The way she spoke to him, not shy, but not aggressive.  The way she let him know, through her face and movements, that she wasn't giving up on him.

            And the way she kissed him.  She wasn't a stunningly good kisser, not like Bella.  In fact, for all he knew he could have been her first kiss.  But there was something pure about her, something wholesome and innocent that couldn't be faked.  It showed in her eyes, her voice, her face.  It showed when she kissed his cheek before leaving for the vampires.

            _God, I can't think about her like this,_ Remus tried to remind himself.  _She's only eighteen!_

            But did it really matter anymore?  He wasn't going to see her again, even Bella knew it.  Would it hurt anyone to give in to this?  To admit it?

            "Yes," Remus said softly.  He took a deep breath.  "Yes.  I love her."

            Bella watched him for a moment.  "Pain and sex, like I said."  She halfway smiled.  "Looks like you got the pain."

            "I suppose," Remus agreed.  It certainly looked that way.  He'd always thought love would be a feeling of glory, and eternal happiness.  Not sadness.  Not despair.

            _It shouldn't hurt so much,_ he thought.  _If I'd known it would hurt like this, I would've stayed in denial_.

            But in his heart, Remus knew that the pain had been there the whole time.  He'd only acknowledged its presence.

            "You don't look exactly in the mood anymore," Bella said, opening the door again.  She smiled lightly.  "Maybe I need to brush up my skills."

            Remus didn't respond, and her smile faded.

            "Well, I'll be just outside the door, if you change your mind," she said, her voice a touch cooler.  "I would, if I were you.  They'll kill you otherwise, and I'd like to think that I'm a better fate than death."

            Remus nodded.  "I'll let you know."

            Giving up at last, Bella left him alone in his prison.  Even though he knew that everything she'd said and done was almost certainly an act, Remus couldn't help feeling sorry for her.  If she really was going to have to face a man who would treat her that way…

            No.  She didn't have to.  She could leave, if she were truly miserable.  And Lane had said Bella was no good… and Remus trusted Lane a lot more than Bella.  He trusted a lot of people more than Bella.

            And that said it all, really.  He wasn't going to sleep with someone he didn't love, and he couldn't love someone he didn't trust.

            Of course, at the moment, he felt like he couldn't love anyone but Erin.  Not that it mattered.  After all, she'd never know.

            "Vell?  Aren't you going to say anyzhing?"

            "What do you want me to say?  You'll never get away with this?"  Erin shook her head.  "That would be rather pointless."

            "Especially since I 'ave gotten avay wiz it already," Xavier agreed.  "No, I vas zhinking somezhing more along ze lines of _vhy_ I've brought you 'ere."

            "Would you actually tell me?" Erin asked dubiously.

            "No.  But I expected you to ask."  Xavier smiled.  "Do you know vhere you are?"

            Erin looked around.  It was a small room, about the size of the one she and Lianne had been placed in, but with only one bed.  And the furnishings were rather more luxurious than the ones in the guest room.  "No."

            "Good."  Xavier leaned back in his chair, eyes on Erin.  She wanted to squirm out of his gaze, but considering that she was tied to a chair, that wasn't exactly an option.

            _I can't believe I was such an _idiot_,_ Erin thought bitterly.  _Why didn't I scream, or use my iron ring, or something?  Some book this would make.  Heroine visits vampires, heroine gets captured by vampires, heroine is held for ransom then gets her blood sucked out.  Yup, great story there._

            "Can't you zhink of anyzhing more interesting?" Xavier asked.

            Erin started.  "What?"

            "Your thoughts," the vampire explained.  "Zhey're very dull."

            "You're reading my thoughts?"  Erin tried not to panic.  _He's bluffing, he's got to be, he can't _really_ read my – _

            "I assure you, I can," Xavier said.  "A moment ago, you were rambling on about being a story heroine."

            "That was a private thought," Erin objected.  "It wasn't meant for your amusement!"

            "Does it annoy you?"  Xavier smirked.  "My apologies."

            "You'll stop, then?" Erin demanded.

            "Unlikely," he said calmly.  "But I do apologize."

            "Tchuh."  Erin glared at him.

            "Zhat vas an unnecessarily rude noise."

            "Only in _your_ opinion."

            Xavier eyed her thoughtfully.  "Vun is usually more polite to vun's jailors."

            "One is usually more polite to one's guests, but that hasn't stopped you," Erin snapped.

            Xavier laughed.  "I zhink I see vhy my sister likes you."

            Confused by this reaction, Erin lapsed into silence.  She started to wonder exactly how he'd brought her here without anyone noticing – she didn't remember anything between being in her room with him and being tied to this chair here – then realized Xavier was still listening in.

            "You can't stop me, you know," he said, smiling sweetly.

            _I hate him, I really do,_ Erin thought viciously.  _I hate all the vampires.  I hate this whole tribe – no, this whole _country_!_

            "Zhat's going a bit too far, isn't it?" Xavier commented.  "Lots of ze English quite like France."

            _I'm not listening to him._

            "You are, you know.  I can tell."

            _I'm not.  La la la la…I can't hear you…_

            "Of course you can.  Vhy else vould you be zhinking zhat?"

            _Get out of my head!  You have no right!_

            "I'm a vampire.  Right and wrong don't apply to me."

            _I hate you._

            "You mentioned."

            _Ok.  Fine, then.  Listen.  See if I care._

            "I intend to."

            _Right.  Fine.  I'll just make it boring for you, then._

            "You can't stop thinking, you know.  It's can't be done."

            _One… two… three… four… five…_

            Xavier burst out laughing.  Erin ignored him.

            _… eight… nine… ten…_

            "All right, Mistress Connor, all right!  You win."  Xavier applauded her.

            _… fifteen… sixteen – what?_

            "Mistress Connor?  You can stop if you like," Xavier told her, approval in his eyes.

            "What do you mean?" Erin asked suspiciously.

            "I mean I von't listen to your thoughts unless you vish it," Xavier replied.

            "Why?  It got boring?"

            "No."  Xavier favored her with an especially charming smile.  "Because you're bright enough to deserve it.  And bright girls like you shouldn't 'ave to count all day.  I give you my vord – no mind-reading unless you vant me to."

            "Well.  I'm glad you see it that way."  Erin eyed him warily a moment more.  _My God, he's got a huge fly on his nose,_ she thought experimentally.  He didn't even twitch.  _I wonder how good a vampire's word is…_

            _And I wonder why he thinks I'd ever want him break it._

            There was a rap on the door.

            Erin started, but Xavier simply smiled and got up.  He paused a moment, then opened it.  It was that fat lady, the Countess Sekihei, that Lianne had hated painting.

            "My lady."  Xavier bowed mockingly as she entered.

            Eyes narrowed, she snapped something at him in French.  He replied in the same language.  Erin sighed.  She wished she could understand them, maybe then she'd have a better idea of why she was here.  Obviously, she was being held for some sort of ransom, but she couldn't figure out why they'd chosen her instead of Lianne.

            _It isn't even as though I'm particularly valuable,_ Erin mused.  _The Circle couldn't care less about me.  They might do something about Li or Remus, since they're the officially unofficial messengers, but I'm not important enough to get a big ransom._

            It was kind of depressing to know you weren't worth very much… but that didn't make it any less true.  What happened to her didn't matter.

            But did the vampires know that?  They must think she was at least a little important, to kidnap her like this.  If they'd wanted her out of the way, surely Xavier would have simply killed her, without bothering about bringing her here.  But she couldn't even see why they'd especially want her out of the way.  It didn't make sense.

            "So."  Erin looked up as Sekihei seated herself on the couch opposite Erin's chair.  Xavier perched on one arm of the sofa, not deigning to share a seat with the Countess.  "Girl.  You are from England?"

            "Er… sort of," Erin said cautiously, wondering how much she should tell these people.  After all, Sekihei hadn't said anything about reading her thoughts, so the Countess could presumably tell if Erin lied.

            "Yes, I can," Sekihei agreed.  "And so can – "  She stopped, then turned to Xavier incredulously.  "Vhy in ze vorld did you make a stupid oath like zhat?"

            "I like 'er."  Xavier shrugged.  "No reason not to."

            Sekihei rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.  It was in French, but even Erin could get the general idea.

            "Girl."  She turned back to Erin.  "English Aurors 'ave sent you to persuade us to join you against your Dark Lord."

            "Well, yes, I suppose so."  Though technically, they'd sent _Lianne_.  Erin was only along for the ride, because she'd had nowhere else to go.

            "Ah."  Sekihei glared at Xavier.

            "I did _not_ get ze wrong vun," the prince said calmly, before the Countess could open her mouth.  "I meant to bring Mistress Connor."

            "Vhy?"

            "Because Prizzilla likes 'er," Xavier explained.  "I 'ate seeing my sister upset, and she vould be quite upset if Mistress Connor should be 'urt in ze battle."

            "You brought me here to keep me _safe_?" Erin asked in disbelief.

            "To be questioned," Sekihei corrected sharply.  "And ransomed.  If she's vorth anyzhing," she added, with a dark look at Xavier.

            "Oh, relax, Futotta dear," he said with a laugh.  "You veren't likely to get a good ransom for eizzer vun of zhese ladies.  Lady Black isn't even an Auror.  Just a messenger."

            "Is zhat true?" Sekihei demanded of Erin.

            "Well…"

            "It _is_."  The Countess scowled.

            "Ze ransom vas never ze important issue, Futotta," Xavier said.  "Per'aps it's all _you_ saw."

            "And vhat vas I meant to see?"  She narrowed her eyes at him.

            "Only vhat I command you to," Xavier said pleasantly, with just a hint of an edge to his voice.  "I rank you, Futotta Sekihei, both magically and royally.  I may not be in ze line for ze crown, but I am still your prince.  Don't forget zhat.  Don't _ever_ forget zhat."

            Lane sat in the middle of his sister's bedroom, staring at the wall.  It wasn't an especially interesting wall, just ordinary wood.  There wasn't even a window.  But he was staring at it anyway.  Even a plain, boring wall was better than looking at the bed.

            Alacra was on the bed.

            The pressure of tears behind his eyes burned, but Lane couldn't cry.  She deserved tears, of course, but he'd gone beyond that now.  He couldn't cry, as much as he wanted to.  As much as he needed to.

            _Why Alacra?_ he wondered again.  It didn't make sense.  She was just a little girl, what could killing her achieve?  She'd never hurt anyone.  The worst thing she'd ever done was to put a worm in the Trademaster's hair.  She was too young to have done anything to deserve death.

            But that wasn't why she'd died.  Lane knew that all too well.  They'd killed her to get to him.  That was all.  Oh, sure, they'd wanted a sacrifice before the battle, but an animal would have done just as well.  One of the true wolves, or a deer, or _something_.  It didn't have to be a little girl.  It didn't have to be Alacra.

            _Oh, Laci, Laci, I'm sorry._  Lane swallowed hard.  _I shouldn't have let them know how much I love you.  I should have pretended to hate you, like I hate everyone else here._

            And the worst of it was, he hadn't even been that nice to her.  Oh, he'd loved Alacra, everyone had known it, but he could remember every time he'd snapped at her, shouted at her, scolded her for obeying some pointless tradition of the clan.  If he'd known… if he'd only known… he'd never have spoken harshly to her.  He just wanted her to see that the clan's laws weren't everything there was to life.  He wanted her to be free, the way the other wolf women weren't.

            But she'd never understood.  All she'd seen was that her brother was yelling at her, and she didn't know why.  Had she known he loved her?  She must have.  He told her every day.  But had she loved him?  Or had she only seen that he was unkind to her, and died hating him?  Oh, God, she couldn't have hated him.

            _No.  She _should_ have hated me.  It's my fault she had to die.  If it weren't for me, she'd be alive now._

            And they hadn't even had the decency to give her a painless death.  No, they'd beaten her first.  Lane had nearly been sick when he saw her body.  Not just because of the blood, but because of the bruises, and what they meant.  Her little face had still been tear-stained, from when she'd wept for them to stop.

            But the bruises weren't even the worst part.

            They'd branded her.  Lane hated the branding ceremony, so that was why they must have done it.  Alacra wouldn't have been old enough otherwise.  It was traditionally done when a girl reached puberty, and Laci had only been nine.

            But that hadn't stopped them.  They had cut Ferox Alpha's initials into her palms, to mark her as a female belonging to him.  To mark her as a _possession._

            That blow had been aimed at Lane, just as everything about Laci's death had been.  It was a message from his father, delivered in blood – _you belong to me, you and your sister both.  You are mine, to do with as I please.  And if you will not obey, you will be destroyed._

            Just as Alacra had been destroyed, on Ferox's sudden whim.  Lane clenched his fists.  How could someone do that?  Beat and kill their own daughter, in cold blood… it felt surreal.  Surely no one could really do that.  Not even someone like Ferox.

            Except that he had.

            It made sense, really – a grotesque sense, but nevertheless.  Ferox had always been in control, ever since he'd challenged the former Alpha when he was just about Lane's age.  He'd controlled everything about his life – except Lane.  He'd never quite been able to rule his son.  So, since he couldn't make his son submit, he would break him.  Alacra was just a convenient means to bring that end about.

            _I wonder if he even sees the difference between locking me up and ordering my sister murdered,_ Lane thought bitterly.  _He probably doesn't, knowing him.  She was just a thing to him, and a worthless thing, at that.  Just a female.  She didn't even hold a place in the clan.  He didn't value her.  He just used her to get what he wanted._

            Lane rose suddenly, turning to face the bed.  His stomach didn't heave anymore, not after the first shock.  And he looked down at his little sister's body.

            "Alacra," he whispered, reaching out to touch her cheek, wincing at the discoloring where someone had blacked her eye.  "Laci.  My little sister."

            Tenderly, Lane rearranged her limbs from the careless sprawl in which she'd been flung down.  Her straightened her legs and folded her arms across her chest, doing as best he could with one that was broken.  He smoothed back her hair, making it neater than it had ever been while she lived.  With the edge of her bed sheet, he wiped the blood from her face and hands as best he could.  Then, after looking at her a moment, he went over to knock at the door.

            Ianfu peered in through the long thin window at eye level. "Yes?" she asked suspiciously.

            "May I have a flower?"

            The woman's eyebrows lifted.  "What for?"

            "Because I'd like to have one, that's what for," Lane snapped.

            Ianfu's face disappeared a moment.  A few seconds later, a stem was poked through the window slit.  "Anything else?  A twig, maybe?  A pebble?"

            Lane ignored her, crossing the room again.  He slid the flower – well, it was more of a weed, just a little buttercup, but it at least had a blossom – between Alacra's hands.

            "I love you, Laci.  Rest in peace."

            "You're sure I can't go look for her?"

            Severus glared at Lianne.  "Shut up."

            "I'm worried.  It's been _hours_."

            "If you must worry, you might concern yourself with how you plan to survive the battle that we will shortly be involved in," Severus told her curtly.  One thing he remembered about Lianne from Hogwarts certainly hadn't changed – her inability to be silent for more than ten consecutive seconds.

            He hadn't been entirely in favor of sending Black's wife to deal with the vampires, but they hadn't really had anyone else to send.  And no one had believed the wolves would attack so soon.  _Perhaps it would be better to leave now, and return when the battle is over,_ Severus mused.

            But no.  The Circle had made an offer of aid to this tribe, and now they had a duty to follow through.  They couldn't just let the vampires be destroyed.

            _Though what good _I'm_ going to do anyone I haven't the faintest idea,_ he thought sourly.  The vampires didn't seem to be in need of any potions, and they were certainly his magical equals, probably his betters.  As far as he could tell, the only reason Dumbledore had sent him was because that Diviner, Vayan, had insisted on it.  But he wasn't even a Dark Arts expert, not if Lupin was here.

            _Lupin…_

            "What happened to Lupin?" Severus asked.

            Lianne blinked.  "Remus?  Oh, he's over with the wolves."

            "Yes, I'm aware of that."  Severus rolled his eyes.  "But why hasn't he stopped this attack?  Or at least tried to delay it."

            "Well… I'm sure he tried," Lianne said, another worry line creasing her forehead.  "But he's not that good.  Not enough to stop a whole clan bent on attacking."

            "So he's on his way here, then," Severus said, nodding.

            "I guess so."  Lianne kept frowning.  "I never thought about that.  I hope Remus is ok."

            "Lupin is quite capable of taking care of himself," Severus said with a sigh.  "I simply wanted to know if he was available."

            "Not unless he's left his mirror thing on," Lianne replied.

            "Has he?"

            Lianne bent down to the bag she normally carried her art supplies in.  She'd actually removed them of her own free will, opting to carry the Glacialispeculum instead, in case of emergencies.  She peered at it.  "No, he's still got it off.  I really hope nothing happened to him."

            Severus shook his head.  "Attempt to focus on the problem at hand.  I'm positive Lupin is fine.  What could possibly have happened to him?"

            "You're right, I suppose."  Lianne sighed.  "It's just – "

            "Vhat are you two doing out 'ere?"

            "Oh, hi, Miache," Lianne said.

            "We were told to wait here," Severus offered by way of explanation.  "By the Countess… er…"

            "The fat lady," Lianne said helpfully.

            Miache nodded distractedly.  "Sekihei.  Vell, you'd better come vith me.  Ze volves 'ave been sighted."

            "Where are we going?" Lianne asked as they followed the vampire through the corridors.

            "Ze queen's chambers," Miache said shortly.  "Wiz 'er councils."

            Severus raised his eyebrows.  "Any particular reason?"

            "It's ze place vhere you're least likely to get killed, and ve don't need to antagonize England as vell as ze Ganrou.  Besides," Miache smiled faintly, "you came to 'elp us.  You might as vell do so."

            "Oh my goodness!"

            Erin looked up as Prissy entered the room.  "What are you doing here?"

            "Why, this is my room," Prissy said, staring at Erin in shock.  "I fell asleep in the study earlier, but I woke up when Xavier and the Countess left.  Whatever happened to you?  Here," she shook herself out of her daze, and darted over, "let me untie you."

            "Thanks," Erin said gratefully, as Prissy began wrestling with the knots.  "Um… don't take this the wrong way, but your brother brought me here."

            "Did he?  Well, I did ask him too," the girl said.  "But he'd no call to tie you up like this!  Why did he?"

            "I don't know," Erin replied.  "But…"  She hesitated.  Prissy sounded like she was awfully fond of her brother, and she didn't know how well the girl would take an accusation against him.

            "But what?" Prissy prompted.  "I don't really think this knot is going to come out.  I have a better idea."  She went over to the desk beside the bed, and began rummaging through the top drawer.  Erin had to grin, noticing that although the outward appearance of the room was very neat, the drawer was crammed with all sorts of junk that would normally sit on top of a desk.

            "But… nothing," Erin finished the sentence.  "I was unconscious at the time, I think.  Maybe he was afraid I'd fall off the chair."

            "That must be it."  Prissy pulled out a pair of scissors.  "Found them!"  She went back to cut through the ropes.  "Xavier wouldn't hurt you.  He might pretend he's going to, but he wouldn't really."

            "I'm sure."  Erin's arms came free, and she brought them around in front of her, rubbing at them.  "Oww…"

            "Oh, I hope you're all right!" Prissy exclaimed in dismay, as she bent to deal with the cords that bound Erin's feet together.  "It can't be very bad, can it?"

            "Well… it's only cramps," Erin said.  "They'll go away if I can just stretch my muscles."

            "Good."  Prissy cut through the last of the cord, and Erin stood.  "I'm so glad you're here.  Everything that's happened – it's terrible!"

            "What?"  Erin turned to face Prissy, suddenly worried.  "What's wrong?"

            "You do not know?"  Prissy's mouth fell open.  "You do not, do you?"

            "What?  Is it Lianne?"  Erin's imagination without delay presented her with several worst-case scenarios.

            "Lady Black?  Oh, no, she's quite well," Prissy hastened to assure her.  "No, it's the wolves.  They're attacking!"

            "They're _what_?  Now?"

            "If not now, then very soon."  Prissy sat on the chair Erin had been tied to, drawing her heels up onto the edge of the seat.  "Erin – I'm afraid."

            "You are?"  Erin stopped worrying about her friends, or at least shoved the worry to a different part of her mind.  "They won't hurt you, will they?  You're the princess!"

            "Yes."  The single word made Erin rethink the "they won't hurt you" part of her statement.  "But I'm not afraid for me, Erin.  It's Lane.  He'll never fight against my people, but they won't leave him alone in the clan territory while they attack, either.  Oh, Erin, what if they kill him?  What will I do?"  Her eyes were wide with terror.

            "I… don't know."  Erin sighed, and knelt by Prissy.  For all she knew, the girl was really centuries old… but right now, Prissy was just a lost, lonely child who needed comfort.  "You'll get through it somehow.  But I'm sure they won't kill him."

            "You don't know that," Prissy whispered, staring into Erin's eyes, pleading for some assurance that Erin _did_ know, that she could safely promise that Lane would be all right.

            "No," Erin admitted reluctantly.  "I don't.  But I do know that you can't think like that.  Remember Romeo and Juliet?"  Prissy shook her head no.  "Oh.  Well, it's an English play about two lovers.  He thought she was dead, and he got so upset he killed himself before he could find out the truth.  But if he'd just waited, he would've seen she was really alive."

            "That's horrible," Prissy said, shuddering.  "And then she had to go on alone.  Forever."

            "Well… not exactly."  Erin changed the subject, not wanting to give the princess any ideas, considering the mood she was in.  "So didn't you say you asked your brother to bring me here?"

            "Yes."  Prissy nodded, still subdued.  "I wanted to see you again.  He said he needed to talk to you anyway.  Did he?"

            "Oh – yes," Erin said.  "Yes, he did.  And the Countess."

            "The one who just left?"  Prissy frowned.  "I don't like her.  She's not very nice."

            "No, she isn't," Erin agreed wholeheartedly.

            "And she has an ugly tattoo," the vampire princess added, grimacing.  "On her arm, too.  If I ever get a tattoo, I will at least have the decency to put it somewhere that isn't my forearm."

            Erin froze.  "Prissy – just what does this tattoo look like?"

            "It's horribly ugly," Prissy said slowly, thinking back.  "I only ever saw it once, though.  She wears long sleeves almost all the time, and I think she must be able to make it invisible if she has to have bare arms.  I really don't blame her, though.  But I saw it a little while ago, during June.  It's black, and it has a skull.  And snakes.  I think the snakes were sort of attached to the skull."  She shrugged.  "It was very ugly, anyway.  Not the sort of tattoo I'd like."

            "I should think not," Erin said, stunned.  "My God, that's the Dark Mark!"

            "The what?"  Prissy blinked.  "Isn't that your Dark Lord's symbol?"

            "Isn't vhat?"  The two girls jumped as Xavier spoke.  He smiled.  "Per'aps I need to make more noise."  He closed the door and leaned against it.  "Lord Voldemort is 'ardly a normal topic for pretty girls."

            "I was telling Erin about the Countess's ugly tattoo," Prissy explained, some of her brightness returning with the presence of her brother.  "Have you seen it?"

            "Yes, I'm afraid so."  Xavier looked from Erin to Prissy.  "It is very ugly. Vouldn't you say so, Mistress Connor?"

            "I haven't seen it," Erin told him stiffly.  She wondered if Prissy noticed the tension in the air.  Certainly Xavier seemed aware of it.  "Um… Prissy tells me she asked you to fetch me?"

            "Yes, I did mention zhat."  Xavier raised an eyebrow.  "Vhat of it?"

            "Well…" Erin fumbled for words.  "You might have – um – been a little politer about it."

            "Were you rude to her?" Prissy exclaimed, turning hurt eyes on her brother.  "Xavier, you said you'd be nice!"

            "I vas, I vas," he said airily.  "Vasn't I, Mistress Connor?"

            Erin opened her mouth – then glanced at Prissy.  "Yes," she said, deflating.  "Yes, you were perfectly nice.  I was just a little upset about being tied up."

            "Ah, yes.  Zhat."  Xavier nodded.  "For Sekihei's benefit, of course.  She might 'ave gotten quite ze wrong idea, ozzervise."

            "Xavier?" Prissy said, tilting her head.  "Does the Countess really have the Dark Mark tattooed on her arm?"

            "So it vould seem," Xavier replied.

            "Why?"

            "Zhat is usually 'ow vun can tell 'oo vorks for ze Dark Lord," Xavier told her.

            "You're working together."  The words slipped out before Erin could stop them.

            "Temporarily."  Xavier gave her a charming smile.  "Surely, Mistress Connor, you don't believe _I_ vould swear myself to ze ultimate evil?"

            "Of course she doesn't!" Prissy said indignantly.  "Really, Xavier, how can you think something like that?"

            "My apologies."  Xavier bowed in Erin's direction – with a mocking smile directed only at her.  "And now, if you vill excuse me, my dear ladies, I must attend ze queen.  She 'as great need of advice now, wiz ze volves on zheir vay."  He left with a dramatic flourish.

            Erin listened for the clink of a lock, but it didn't come.  "He didn't lock us in!"

            "Well, no," Prissy said, confused, "why would he?"  Her face fell as Erin rushed to the door.  "You want to leave?"

            "I've got to warn Lianne," Erin explained, waiting impatiently for enough time to pass that she could be certain Xavier had gone into the corridor.  "If there's someone working for Voldemort here, Li needs to know about it."

            "Why?" Prissy asked, leaning her head sadly on her hand.  "What does the Dark Lord have to do with artists?"

            "Oh."  Erin grimaced.  "Look, Prissy – Lianne and I aren't really artists.  We're here from the Circle of people against Voldemort.  We're representing them to your aunt."

            "But – oh."  Prissy's eyes widened.  "Then your friend is in danger!"

            "Mm-hmm."  Erin nodded.  "I think that's long enough…  I'm going now, but I'll come back as soon as I can, ok?"

            "Ok," Prissy agreed.

            Erin pulled the door open, glanced around the room before her, then closed the door behind her again with a sigh of relief.

            "Lovely day for a stroll, isn't it?"

            Erin jumped as Xavier materialized.  "You – you were – "

            "Invisible," Xavier finished, smiling amiably.  "Very observant, Mistress Connor.  Vhere vere you planning to go, if I may ask?"

            "To warn Lianne about the Countess," Erin told him defiantly.  "And you."

            "Vhat about me?" Xavier asked, looking for all the world politely mystified.

            "That you're in league with Voldemort."  Erin swallowed, reminding herself not to meet his eyes.  Not that it had had much effect _last_ time…

            "Mistress Connor, you seem to be laboring under a misapprehension," Xavier said calmly.  "I admit Sekihei is a – vhat do you call it?  Death Eater?  Vell, she is certainly vun of zhem.  And I also admit I am currently 'in league' wiz 'er.  But I am _not_, nor 'ave I ever been, a follower of your Lord Voldemort."

            "How can I believe you?" Erin wanted to know.  "Would you tell me the truth if you _were_ a Death Eater?"

            "Certainly not."  Xavier smiled, eyes sparkling with amusement.  "Zhat's ze fun of it.  It all depends on 'ow far you trust me."

            Erin narrowed her eyes.  "Not an inch."

            Xavier laughed out loud.  Erin stared at him, wondering how long it had been since he'd lost his grip on sanity.

            "Mistress Connor, you are ze most fascinating 'uman I 'ave met in a long time," the prince said, when he had himself under control again.  "Most people vouldn't dare speak to a vampire as you do.  Are you fearless, I vonder?  Or simply brainless?"  Erin stiffened, and Xavier smiled faintly.  "No – not brainless, I zhink, after all."

            "I'm glad you think so," Erin said, looking from him to the door.  Maybe she could run – but no.  There was no way she could get past him.  Even if she caught him by surprise, he'd be able to get to her when she had to pause to turn the handle.

            Xavier seemed to read this in her eyes.  "Is it possible you're still zhinking of trying to get past me?"  He seemed to be irrationally delighted by the idea.  "Oh, such bravery deserves a reward, indeed."

            "You're going to let me by?" Erin asked hopefully.

            "Vhat?  No, I'm afraid I can't," he told her, sounding truly regretful.  "But I tell you zhis – I vill give your friend fair varning about ze Countess, all right?  And about my alliance wiz 'er, if you vish."

            "I – yes.  Yes, I do wish," Erin said firmly.  "But – why can't I go?"

            Xavier smiled.  "Because I need you to remain 'ere, for ze time being," he replied.  "But you vill be released eventually."

            Erin considered this.  "Alive?"

            Xavier bowed deeply.  "Mistress Connor, I vill not 'arm you, nor allow any 'arm to befall you.  You 'ave my solemn vord on it.  Does zhat satisfy you?"

            "I suppose so."  Erin bit her lip.  "And you will tell Lianne about the Countess?"

            "I did say I vould," Xavier reminded her.  "She vill be told."  He turned to start for the door – and paused.  "Before I go, I should also tell you – the spell zhat binds my sister to this suite of rooms 'as been extended to you."

            "What?"  Erin's vague ideas of picking the lock after he'd left shattered.

            "Again, I apologize," Xavier said.  "But you vill not be able to open any doors zhat lead out of zhese rooms, nor pass through zhem if you find zhem open."  He looked thoughtfully at Erin.  "You intend to try after I leave, I suppose?  Zhen vhy not try now?"

            After a brief pause, Erin headed cautiously over to the door.  She touched the handle, feeling nothing out of the ordinary.  But when she tried to turn it, nothing happened.  It was like trying to turn a stone, while it was still attached to a boulder.

            "You see?  Nozhing."  Xavier shrugged.  He leaned past Erin and opened the door for her.  "Reach past it.  Go on, try."

            Erin poked gingerly at the doorway, but her hand stopped before it could pass by.  She had to admit defeat.  "Ok, I can't get through.  Fine."

            "I, 'owever, can.  And I shall."  To prove his point, Xavier walked through what, for Erin, might as well have been a solid wall.  "Until we meet again, my dear."  He bowed one last time, then shut the door.

            Shaking her head, Erin headed back to Prissy's room.  The girl looked up.  "I thought you were leaving…?"

            "Oh – Xavier went for me," Erin said.  "I've been added to the spell that keeps you here."

            "Really?"  Prissy frowned.  "Did the Countess do that?"

            "Um… maybe," Erin said diplomatically.  After all, Xavier hadn't said that _he'd_ bound her to the rooms.

            "So that you couldn't warn your friend, I suppose.  But Xavier has helped you to foil her evil plot!"  Prissy smiled happily, apparently completely serious.  Erin shook her head at the girl's word choices.  Well, at least she wasn't worrying about death anymore.

            "Erin?"

            She looked over at the princess, who had moved from the chair to sit curled up like a little kitten on her bed.  "Yes?"

            "Xavier seems to like you, doesn't he?" Prissy asked finally.

            "Um."  Erin thought about it.  "Well, yes, I think so.  In a way."

            "In a romantic way?"

            That nearly floored Erin.  "What?"

            "Well… I was thinking…"  Prissy looked at the ground awkwardly.  "I really like you, Erin.  And you're the first person to really like _me_, even though I'm a wolf-lover.  Xavier – he tolerates it, because it's me and he loves me.  But you knew what I was, and you liked me anyway."

            "Yes… but what does that have to do with anything?" Erin asked blankly.

            "See, Xavier likes you too," Prissy said.  "And… well, if you wanted to… you know, marry him… we could be sisters."

            "Um."  Erin sat down on the bed beside the vampire girl.  "Well.  I'm very flattered that you feel this way – but didn't I tell you already that I love someone else?"

            Prissy nodded sadly.  "I know.  But I thought I'd say something."  She sighed.  "It would be nice to have a sister.  And lots of the girls here are in love with Xavier."

            "I'm sorry, Prissy," Erin said, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder.  "I just don't love your brother.  I love Remus – that's his name.  Remus Lupin.  And I don't know if I _could_ love anyone else."

            "Oh, I understand," Prissy told her.  "I would never want to stop love.  But I just thought I'd ask you.  In case you'd changed your mind about loving Remus."

            "I haven't yet."  Erin half-smiled.  "It will take a lot more than some time apart to make me stop loving him."

            Prissy nodded understandingly.  "I wish there were another way we could be sisters, though," she said wistfully.  "I always wanted a sister, and you're the only girl I've ever met who I'd like to be that sister."

            "We could be good friends," Erin said, smiling at the other girl.  "You don't have to be sisters to be friends."

            "Yes.  I know."  Prissy stared at the bedspread.  "Erin?"

            "Mm-hm?"

            "Would you like to be a vampire?"

            Erin choked.  "_What_?"

            "Well, some people really want to be," Prissy said reasonably.  "Before the feud got this bad, the guards kept having to chase away Goths.  They'd come by and ask to be bitten.  And vampires are respected.  Feared, too, maybe, but we're quite powerful.  And if we choose, we can make our lives very long."

            "If you choose?" Erin's curiosity made her ask, despite the larger issue at hand.

            "Oh, yes," Prissy replied earnestly.  "Vampires aren't really immortal, you know.  We can just manipulate how quickly we age.  When – "  She glanced away from Erin.  "_If_ Lane and I ever manage to marry, I will age myself to match him.  And you could do the same, with your Remus."

            "He's not _my_ Remus yet," Erin corrected.  "And… well, why did you think I wanted to be a vampire?"

            "Oh, then we _would_ be related," Prissy said with a bright smile.  "Vampires are always related to the people they bring over."

            "Ah."  Erin blinked.  "Prissy… do you think you might be taking this sister idea too far?  I mean, I'm very flattered, but you don't really know me very well.  What if you decide later on that you don't like me, after all?"

            "I won't," Prissy said – and then her face fell.  "Oh.  You don't like me."

            "No, no, I do," Erin said hastily.  "I'm just not sure that becoming a vampire is the right thing for me.  I don't know how well the Circle would take it, for one thing.  They sent Lianne and me to convince you to join us, not to be turned into vampires.  And I'd hate to get your tribe involved in another war."

            "Ohh."  Prissy nodded.  "That wouldn't be good, would it?  I understand."  She smiled a little.  "Maybe I _was_ moving a little quickly.  But… well… I really like you, Erin.  And all of my friends left me, before.  I don't want you to leave.  Then I won't have any friends."

            Erin bit her lip, feeling a new wave of sympathy for the girl.  "I'll be your friend, Prissy.  And – if you like, you can call me your sister."

            Prissy's face lit up.  "Oh, I _would_ like that!  May I?"

            "Sure."  Erin smiled at the other girl's happiness.  Well, she'd always wanted a sister, too.  She just hadn't thought that, if she ever _did_ get a sister, she'd be a vampire.

            "I'm sorry I'm late, Majesty."  Sekihei curtsied to the queen, then looked around the council room.  "I haven't missed anything important?"

            The queen shook her head.  "No, not yet.  The wolves are still outside somewhere.  Kataki is off preparing a charge against them."

            "I'm surprised she isn't here advising you," Sekihei said.  "I would have thought she'd not dare to leave your side."

            "She's on her way," Miache said.  "Upset you didn't get to be the most fashionably late?"

            "I am merely worried that her Majesty is not fully protected," the Countess said stiffly.

            "Of course."  Miache smiled sweetly.  "I assure you, my considerable talents are fully at her Majesty's command.  You needn't concern yourself with her safety."

            "Lady Phoenix, Countess," Queen Desdemona said warningly.  "This is neither the time nor the place for your bickering."

            Miache bowed lightly.  "You are right, my queen.  Now.  You would like a report from Kataki?"

            "Yes."

            "Very well."  Miache tilted her head a moment, sending a politely querying thought towards one of the birds near the Commander.  When the bird landed on Kataki's shoulder, she smiled grimly and spoke to it.

            Miache relayed the Commander's words:  "Well, Majesty, the news isn't good, but it's not as bad as we feared.  The Ganrou don't seem to have sent out all their people, and the Huntmaster rather than the Alpha looks to be in charge.  Unfortunately, they still outnumber us.  Not to the extent that they could, but very badly."

            The queen nodded.  "Very well.  And your attack?"

            "Our people are prepared whenever you wish, Majesty," Kataki told her.  "Would you prefer me to return before the attack, or remain here?"

            Queen Desdemona frowned a moment.  "Have you a trusted second-in-command?"

            "Yes, Masurao can lead the fight, while I advise him through thoughts," the Commander replied.

            "Then return to advise me," the queen ordered.  "You may need to command your other warriors, and that will be easier to do from here than in the heat of battle."

            "As your Majesty wishes.  And what of the attack?"

            "You are the Commander.  Choose the moment you think best."

            "Then I will return, and my fighters will attack under Masurao as soon as I am gone."

            The bird flew from Kataki's shoulder, and Miache drew her thoughts back to the council room.  "Majesty?"

            "Yes, Lady Phoenix?" the queen said patiently.

            "Do you think that perhaps this attack isn't all it appears?" Miache suggested.

            "How so?"

            "Well…"  Miache frowned, trying to piece together her feelings.  "It feels wrong, somehow."

            "If I may say something?"  Snape stepped forward, speaking what Miache had to admit was very good French.  "Wolves tend to attack with all their strength.  They prefer not to hold any of their resources back.  This is a very out-of-character move for them."

            "Is it?"  Queen Desdemona studied the Englishman a moment.  "How do you know this?"

            "I have made a study of – "  Snape hesitated.

            "Dark creatures?" the queen finished for him, smiling faintly.  "Well.  And what does this mean, in your studied opinion?"

            Snape frowned slightly, clearly wondering if he was being mocked.  "Of course, I can't be definite, not knowing much about this particular clan, but I would say that you need to be on guard against a second attack, when you least expect it."

            The queen nodded thoughtfully.  "Wolves rarely think of such ploys, in my experience… but they have had many years to learn since our last battle.  And I have not fought with this particular Alpha yet.  Very well.  We will be prepared.  Warn Kataki when she arrives."

            The door opened.  The three of them looked over, expecting it to be Kataki, making a well-timed entrance.  Instead, it was Xavier.

            "Greetings, Aunt."  He bowed, approaching her.  "My apologies for interrupting your councils."

            The queen gave him a reproving look.  "You should not be wandering the corridors while we are under attack."

            "Of course."  Xavier smiled.  "I simply needed to speak to Lady Black a moment."

            "I will accompany you," Miache said promptly.  "If your Majesty will excuse me?"

            She and Xavier crossed the room to where Lianne was standing with Viscount Raoul, who was attempting to translate conversations for her.  "Lady Black."  Xavier bowed to her.

            Lianne didn't say anything, just eyed Xavier very suspiciously.  The Viscount looked from Lianne to the prince to Miache.  "I vill let you speak, zhen.  Goodbye."  He bowed, and hurried off.  Miache didn't blame him.  Most people wouldn't like to be in any confrontation involving the vampire prince.

            "I bring you a message," Xavier said courteously.  "From your friend Mistress Connor."

            Lianne started.  "Erin?"  Her eyes narrowed.  "You _did_ kidnap her!"

            Xavier smiled broadly.  "Vhat makes you zhink she vas kidnapped?  Per'aps she came of 'er own free vill."

            "Perhaps you – "

            "I zhink," Miache interrupted, "zhat you ought to first listen to 'is 'ighness's message, before jumping to conclusions."

            Xavier raised an eyebrow.  "On my side, Lady Phoenix?"

            "On ze side of you not losing your temper and blowing apart ze ceiling," Miache said sharply.  "See zhat you don't.  Now give your message."

            "At vunce."  Xavier smiled.  "Mistress Connor vishes me to tell you zhat ze Countess Futotta Sekihei 'as ze Dark Mark tattooed on 'er forearm.  And," he cut off Lianne's exclamation, "she also says to tell you zhat I am in league wiz ze Countess."

            Lianne opened her mouth – then shut it.  After a moment's thought, she said, "So let me get this straight.  You're telling me that you're a Death Eater?"

            "No, I am telling you I am in league wiz a Death Eater," Xavier corrected.  "Ze difference is zhat I do not serve your Dark Lord."

            "He isn't _mine_," Lianne said absently, thinking this over.  "Why would you tell me this?"

            "Mistress Connor vished me to," Xavier said calmly.  "It's no concern of mine if you believe me.  I've delivered my message."  He bowed, then went over to chat with – or antagonize – Raoul.

            Lianne stared after him.  "Is that all true?"

            "Vell… I did suspect about Sekihei, so I'm inclined to believe zhat part," Miache said thoughtfully.  "And zhen… vell, ze zhing about Xavier is zhat, vhile 'e twists 'is speech around so zhat you're never sure vhat 'e's really said, 'e _alvays_ keeps 'is vord.  And if 'e says zhis is true, zhen – to ze best of 'is knowledge – it probably is."

            "Then – we've got to warn someone!"

            "If you mean ze queen, she likely knows already," Miache told the witch.  "Sekihei is vun of ze greatest supporters of joining ze Dark Lord's ranks.  And your friend Erin clearly knows, as vell."

            "Erin – that's right, he said Erin asked him to tell!"  Lianne frowned.  "What does that mean?"

            "Zhat she asked 'im to tell you, of course," Miache snapped.  "Vhat did you zhink it meant?"

            "Well, she's alive, at least," Lianne said, ignoring the vampire's remark.  "But he's got her!  Can't we – "

            "Vhen ze battle is over," Miache said with a sigh.  "Not before.  Anyvay, if 'e _'as_ taken your friend 'ostage, she'll probably be safer vherever 'e's put 'er zhan she vould be wiz you."

            "Well… all right," Lianne conceded at last.  "But I at least ought to tell Snape that the Countess – "

            The sound of falling stone silenced her.  The vampires all spun to face the wall that had fallen in – and the wolves, led by Ferox, who stood in its place.

Author's Note:  Well.  Next chapter is the resolution of all these conflicts.  It'll be the last one about the vampires and werewolves.  I'm so sad…  Ok, I've moved on.  Anyway.

Disclaimer:  Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling.  _Crash and Burn_ lyrics belong to Savage Garden.  All my vampires and wolves belong to me!

Thank you to all the wonderful people who reviewed – crazyme89, Evanne M. Hall, Unicorn777, Trisana Moonstream Granger, Diva937, Kali Shadow, Tricia, Piri Lupin-Snape, CuteSarah.  I love all of you!

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	15. Pale As Fear

Dreaming Of You

Author's Note:  I'm really sorry about the delay for this.  I've been busy, and it was intended to be a long part.  The reason that it isn't long is because I decided the delay was getting ridiculous.  So I just cut this off at a decent stopping point.  My apologies for the abrupt ending.

Warning – my spells are a random combination of Latin and Japanese.  My Latin should (hopefully) be accurate, but my Japanese consists of words from an online dictionary.  Please let me know if I've done anything horrendous.  The French, however, came from my mother, since I don't speak it.

Next time I try to write using another language, I will remember this fic, and come to my senses.

**_Part 14 – Pale As Fear_**

****

**Chapter 24**

_When it all began  
We knew there'd be a price___

_Once upon a dream  
I was lost in love's embrace  
There I found a perfect place  
Once upon a dream._

            Not many people had the privilege of seeing Queen Desdemona utterly floored, but everyone in her council room, had they been paying attention to her rather than the wolves, would have had the honor.

            "Your Majesty."  Ferox smirked.  "You might want to strengthen the walls here.  Very flimsy, they are.  Why, an attacker might be able to punch right through."

            The queen pulled herself together.  "Guards!"

            "Your guards," the Alpha reminded her, "are on the other side of a locked door – which seems to be more of a problem for them than for us.  Not to mention the attackers they are probably dealing with in your main corridor."

             Miache narrowed her eyes.  "Guards or no, we can still stop you from getting near her."

            Ferox laughed.  "In case you haven't noticed, we outnumber you.  Threats from one silly little girl don't frighten us."

            "Perhaps."  Miache smiled dangerously, stepping forward.  "But even if this 'silly little girl' only manages to take out _one_ of you – would you like to volunteer to be that one?"

            "I have no intention of doing so."  Ferox's eyes shifted behind her, just for a moment.

            Miache spun and flung herself forward before the wolves could even blink, but Sekihei had been closer to the queen.  She had Desdemona shoved against the back of the ornate chair, a stake pricking the flesh above the queen's heart.

            "Bitch!" the Phoenix snarled in uncharacteristic rage.  "Traitor!  How _dare_ you?  She's your own queen!"

            "I serve a better Master than _her_," the Countess spat.  "Why should I be loyal to a queen who hasn't even the power to defeat a single wolf clan?  Why should I honor a monarch too weak to deserve my respect?"

            "Do you honor and respect this Dark Lord of yours, then?" the queen asked.  There was no fear in her voice… just a deep sadness.

            "His power, yes," Sekihei replied.  "And his willingness to use that power."

            "And for that _power_," Miache ground out, "you would betray your tribe?"

            "Why shouldn't I?" Sekihei shot back.  "Maybe it means nothing to you, of course – you have everything you've ever wanted.  Beauty, influence, charm, and of course more power than any three of the rest of us!  And as if that weren't bad enough, you use it to stop any of the rest of us seeking out some reward of our own!"

            "Because I remain loyal to my queen?"

            "Because you don't have the courage to suck human blood!"  Sekihei's hands trembled in the grip of her emotions, tearing the queen's bodice.  "You don't have the courage to enslave them _or _devour them, and you know that we could be your equals if you only allowed us to do what you can't!"

            "It was my decree, not Miache's, that forbade human blood," Desdemona said calmly when the Countess had to stop for breath.  "And powerful though she is, she does not yet dictate my commands."

            Sekihei sneered at the queen.  "Would you know if she did?"

            The vampire queen was silent.

            "I thought not."

            "Enough talking," Ferox snapped impatiently.  "Kill her and be done with it!"

            "You take orders from the _wolf_ leader?"  Xavier's voice was sharp with outrage.

            "I take orders from my Master," the Countess contradicted.  "You knew that, _Prince_ Xavier.  Don't pretend you didn't."

            "Swearing to Voldemort is one thing," Xavier said, his usual smile conspicuously gone from his lips.  "All vampires should strive for power, each to his or her own path.  But do you tell me," and his voice chilled the very air in the room, "that you have made yourself subservient to this _creature_?"

            "I am her better in our Master's ranks," Ferox said lazily.  "Not, of course, that it was hard to become so."

            Xavier looked from Sekihei to the wolves.  "So be it, then.  Betray your people."

            "And what have you done?" she demanded.  "You're my ally, you can't deny that."

            "Not in this," the prince said steadily.  "Vampire should not kill vampire."

            "No?"  Sekihei laughed unpleasantly.  "What say you, your Majesty?"

            "My opinion is likely to be somewhat biased at the moment," the queen replied, smiling ironically to show her fangs.  "But yes, I would agree with my nephew.  Possibly for the first time in a century."

            "Then let this be the first weakening of your rule."

            "What just happened?"

            "She staked the queen."  Severus glared at Lianne, who had slipped over to him in the confusion for some bizarre reason of her own.  "Do you _want_ to draw their attention?"

            "It isn't _my_ fault I can't understand them!" she hissed back.  "I _meant_ what are they saying?  She's working with them?"

            "The wolves are all working for Voldemort," Severus explained quickly, "she's a Death Eater, and she wants to suck human blood but Miache won't let her."

            "I approve," Lianne said fervently.  "She isn't interested in _us_, is she?"

            Severus just glared at her.  She _had_ to put the idea into his head, didn't she?

            But the vampire prince drew Severus's attention away from the ghastly mental pictures.

            "Murderer."  Xavier was pale with rage.  "You have killed one of your own, Sekihei."

            "Of course."  The Countess wiped the Queen's blood – vampires had blood? – from her fingers, onto the Queen's gown.  "The weak must submit to the strong, Your Highness.  You knew that when you joined with me."

            "And even Desdemona learned the truth," Ferox added, inserting himself in the conversation.  "Now your people will submit to mine."

            "The wolves are _not_ stronger than the vampires!" Miache snarled.

            "No?"  Ferox glanced about him, amused.  "Have you evidence to the contrary?"

            "I'll fight any one of you!" the Phoenix shot back instantly.  "No wolf could triumph against a vampire!"

            "But Lady," Ferox said with a cold smile, "you miss the point.  Wolves do not fight vampires alone.  We hunt in packs – a skill the vampires have never mastered.  We do not rebel against our leaders."

            "She," Miache threw a contemptuous glance at Sekihei, "is a flawed specimen.  You can't judge by her."  The Phoenix held herself steady, resolutely turning her back on the dead body.  "The Queen is dead – long live Queen Priscilla."

            Sekihei started laughing.  "Oh, I don't think so, Lady Phoenix.  My Master has promised that _I_ will lead the vampires!"

            "We'll never follow you!" a young man – a Viscount, wasn't he? – snapped, eyes flashing.  "You staked Her Majesty.  Vampires do not do that to other vampires."  He sneered at the Countess.  "Have your forgotten the honor of your blood?"

            Ferox snorted.  "Vampires have no honor.  It's one of your few virtues."

            "Oh, I assure you, we have honor," Miache said sweetly.  "It is simply not a thing I would expect a wolf to understand."  She looked back at Sekihei.  "Wolf-lover or not, the Cruentes will follow Priscilla before you."  Her lip curled in disgust, exposing one gleaming fang.  "They'd follow anyone before you."

            "Perhaps."  Sekihei shrugged unconcernedly.  "But they can't follow your princess if she's dead."

            That caught Xavier's attention.  "What?"

            Sekihei smiled coldly.  "You heard me, Your Highness."

            Xavier didn't bother to say that she wouldn't dare.  Everyone knew all too well that the Countess would.

            "Bring her here," Ferox commanded Sekihei.  With a nod, the vampire woman moved to leave.

            Miache and Xavier both blocked her way.  "You will have to pass us first," the Phoenix ground out.

            "Ah, you would prefer the alternative, then?"  Ferox smiled pleasantly.  "Would you like to know what my wolves have orders to do if they find her before she's brought here?"

            "Kill her, which would leave her no better off," Xavier snapped.

            "Well, yes," Ferox said thoughtfully.  "I suppose they _would_ kill her, come to think of it.  Eventually."

            Xavier and Miache exchanged glances.  "You're bluffing," Miache accused.  "No wolf would lay a finger on the vampire princess."

            "The vampire _princess_?"  Ferox laughed.  "Perhaps not.  But on the vampire whore?"

            "How _dare_ you!"  Xavier spun and threw himself at Ferox.  The wolf stepped back and held up a thick bar of iron.  Xavier recoiled sharply, wincing where it burned a strip of flesh from his hand.

            "No!"  At the cry of frustration, all eyes returned to Miache as she slammed into the closed door.  Sekihei had gone.

            "I'm afraid you took a little too long to make up your mind."

            Remus looked over at Bella, standing in the doorway of his prison, with a start.  "I beg your pardon?"

            "About me, I mean."  Her eyes were expressionless, and a slight smile twisted her lips.  "Your decision has been made for you."

            Remus frowned warily.  "What are you talking about?"

            "You've been summoned to the vampire tribe," Bella explained.  "The Alpha has given orders that you and Delaney are to be brought there at once."

            Remus froze, then looked down.  That meant that the battle was over, or as good as was – and that the wolves had won.  He was going to be used to capture his friends.  To capture Erin.  His heart rebelled against the thought… but what could he do?

            "Suppose I refuse?" Remus suggested, not particularly hopefully.

            Bella looked over to one side, at something blocked from Remus's view, then back at him.  "I don't really think that's an option."

            "Ah."  Remus realized that the messenger must still be with her, presumably to make sure that he didn't give any of the trouble he'd been considering.

            _Would it be worth it to fight anyway?_ he wondered.  He knew he had very little chance of escaping, if any chance at all.  He was strong compared to humans, certainly, but his strength and endurance, in wolven terms, were average at best.  Bella and whoever was with her could hold him easily, even if he struggled.  All that was likely to happen was that they would knock him unconscious.

            Of course, that might not necessarily be a bad thing.  He wouldn't have to watch as Ferox and the others used him against Lianne and Erin.  He would just wake up after it was all over, and – 

            No.  That was a coward's way out.  Remus straightened, trying to look as dignified as was possible, considering his clothes – or rather, his lack thereof.  "Then I will go quietly, I suppose."

            Bella raised an eyebrow.  "Willingly?"

            He shook his head.  "Not that, no.  But quietly."

            He wondered if Lane would have the sense to do the same.

            "Oh, Delaney, dear!"

            Lane looked up as Ianfu opened the door with a saccharine smile.  "What?"

            "I was – "  She stopped, noticing Alacra's body.  "Oh.  You made your sister pretty.  Isn't that sweet?"

            Lane's eyes narrowed.  "Say what you came to and leave me alone."

            "Of course.  It's just so pleasant to see such a _devoted_ brother."  Ianfu laughed.  Lane debated trying to tear her heart out, but dismissed it as wasted effort.  She clearly didn't have one.  "Your father asked me to give you a message."

            "Whose body is it this time?"

            Ianfu rolled her eyes.  "I suppose you think you're amusing," she said to the ceiling.

            "Well, you certainly aren't."

            She glared at him.  "Your father says you're to come to the vampire tribe at once."

            "Really?"  Lane sneered.  "Tell him that _I said he could go to hell."_

            "Tell him yourself."  Ianfu tossed her head.  "You will go, you know."

            "I won't."

            "You will.  That is," the woman smiled, just as she had when she told him about the Alpha's threats to Alacra, "you will if you want to see your vampire slut again."

            "Don't call her that!"  Lane was on his feet in an instant, furious indignation blazing from his eyes.

            "I'll call her anything I like," Ianfu shot back.  "She's a prisoner of war now."

            "Then why do you need me?" Lane demanded.

            "That is none of your concern," Ianfu said loftily.  She clearly had no idea.  "You need only come with me."

            "No."

            "You'll come or your father's messengers will drag you!"

            "Then bring them on," Lane snarled.  "I will not go with you, to see that _wolf_ gloat over Prissy and her people."

            Ianfu just looked off to one side.  "Isn't he impossible?"

            "Quite," the deeper voice of a male replied.  He nudged Ianfu out of the way, and Lane recognized one of the Alpha's personal guards, rather than a messenger.  A guard who'd always had a particular hatred for Lane.  This resistance had clearly been expected.

            Well, Lane had never been one to go with convention.

            "Never mind," he said, sneering proudly at the man.  "I'll go quietly."

            "I'm sure."  The guard grinned maliciously – and punched Lane in the gut.

            "Oh, I _wish_ we knew what was going on!"  Prissy glared ineffectually at the doorway.  "Something is happening out there – I'm sure of it!"

            "The wolves are probably here."  Erin listened to the vague sounds that floated to them through the walls, trying for the other girl's sake not to look too worried.  "Look, I'm sure it will be all right.  The vampires will fight the wolves off.  It will be fine."

            "It will not!" Prissy insisted.  "Don't you see?  If either side wins, Lane will be killed!  Should the vampires win, they will murder him to break me.  And should the wolves win, _they_ will kill him."  She looked down.  "But I will not have to watch, in that case."

            Erin frowned.  "Why not?"

            "They will kill me first, in front of him."  Prissy made a visible effort to hold back her tears.  "Lane and I have no hope, now that the battle has begun.  Once one side wins, they must kill the both of us."  A tear escaped her eye, and she wiped it hastily away.  "At least then, we will be together."

            "Prissy – Prissy, please, don't say that!"  Erin hurried to the vampire girl's side, dismayed.  "Remus and Lianne are here, one of them on each side.  They won't let either group just kill you or Lane out of hand.  They'll stop it somehow.  It will be ok."

            Prissy just shook her head sadly, eyes cast down.  "You do not know my people, Erin.  And you do not know Lane's."

            The door opened suddenly, cutting off Erin's reply.  "You two," Sekihei commanded peremptorily.  "You vill come wiz me."

            "We won't," Erin said immediately, on general principles that anything a Death Eater wanted was probably bad.

            "We can't leave this room," Prissy pointed out, shrinking against the older girl for protection.  "We can't go anywhere."

            "I 'ave removed ze spell binding you 'ere," the Countess said impatiently.  "And you vill come or I vill make you."

            Possibilities of the Imperius Curse warred with vampire mind control in Erin's head.  She swallowed hard.  "Where?  Not that I'm agreeing," she clarified hastily, "but I want to know where you think you're taking us."

            Sekihei smirked.  "Ze volves 'ave von ze battle," she told Prissy.  "Ze Alpha vants you to join 'im in 'is hour of triumph."

            "Like hell we will!" Erin cried angrily.  "You aren't killing her!"

            "Erin – please."  Prissy touched her friend's arm softly.  "They've won.  There's nothing we can do."

            "I will not accept that."  Erin glared at the Countess.  "You're not taking her anywhere."

            "She vill come villingly," Sekihei retorted.  "And so vill you.  Unless, of course, you vish to be responsible for ze deaths of your friends?"

            Erin caught her breath.  _Remus… Lianne… oh, God, no._  She couldn't let them be killed.  Even if she survived this, where could she go, if Remus and Li died?

            But it wouldn't do any good to go, Erin realized.  The wolves were the ones with the power, and she had no guarantees that, even if she surrendered, her friends would be safe.

            Prissy saw the resolution in Erin's eyes, and spoke before it could be voiced.  "No – no, don't.  It is all right."  She stood and presented herself to the Countess.  "I will go.  Lane will be there?"  Sekihei nodded.  "Then that is where I must be."

            "Prissy, you can't just give in!" Erin protested.  "You have to fight!"

            "Even when I know I can't win?"  Prissy shook her head.  "No.  I knew I would die for Lane as soon as we were found out.  And besides," she looked down, "I can't leave him there alone.  Not if he needs me."

            "He wouldn't want you to come, just so you could die with him!"

            Prissy's eyes flashed.  "If he needs me, I have to go to him!  I can't not be with him.  Please, understand that, Erin."  Her eyes became quiet and sad once more.  "Don't you want to die for Remus?"

            "Well… I'd rather live for him."  Erin avoided the question.  It wasn't something she really wanted to think about.

            "Remus?  Ah, your volf contact."  A slow smile spread across the Countess's face.  "You are in love wiz 'im."

            Erin blanched.  "No!"

            "Yes.  Yes, you are."  Sekihei laughed.  "Vell, zhat makes zhings much easier.  You vill come, or he vill be killed in zhis doorway."

            "You…"  Erin shook her head.  "You would, wouldn't you?  People are ruthless, in war."  She bit her lip.  Remus would want her to resist, she knew he would.  He'd never want her to give in, no matter what happened to him.

            But she couldn't bear to watch him die.  She knew that, too.  While losing her American roots had been horrible, she hadn't broken.  But this… having to see the man she loved killed before her eyes… this would destroy her.

            "I'll come," she said at last.  She smiled a little at Prissy.  "I guess I can't let you face this alone."

            Erin saw the desperate relief that Prissy tried to suppress, and hoped she'd made the right decision.  "Thank you," the princess said softly.

            "Come on, zhen."  Sekihei was unaffected by the feelings the girls were sharing.  "You 'ave kept ze Alpha vaiting long enough."

            "Erin," Prissy whispered as they followed the Countess out of the rooms into the hallway.  "Erin, would you like to be able to speak French?"

            Erin blinked.  "What?  I don't think we've got time – "

            "No, no, there's a spell," Prissy explained quickly.  "You won't be able to speak English until someone lifts the spell, but you'll be able to speak and understand French."

            "Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Erin asked.

            "Well, you didn't need to know French, earlier," Prissy said reasonably.  "And these people will probably be speaking in French."

            Erin nodded.  "That's true.  Can you cast it?"

            "Oh, yes.  It helps me read books in languages I haven't learned yet."  Prissy raised a hand to Erin's throat and murmured, "_Loqueris futsugo ryuuchou_."

            "That was it?"  Erin touched her throat, where Prissy's fingers had been.  "Um… I don't think it worked."

            Prissy just smiled.  "Yes, it did.  You're speaking French right now."

            "I am?"  Erin listened to the sound of her words.  "I – I am!  Ma foi!  Je parle francais!"

            Prissy nodded, then widened her eyes innocently when Sekihei looked back at them suspiciously.

            "But I can't speak English anymore?" Erin asked, suddenly worried.  What if she needed to talk to Lianne?  She knew Li couldn't speak French for love nor money.  That could cause some serious problems.

            "Not until someone removes the spell," Prissy admitted, speaking in her native language.  Even knowing it was a spell, Erin still had to marvel at the way the words knit themselves together into something she could understand.  "But I think it will make things easier for you if you understand French for now."

            Considering the situation she was in, Erin rather had to agree.

Author's Note:  As I said, it's somewhat abrupt.  Sorry about that.  But it was intended to be more of a transition than an ending.  And the next chapter will be the long complicated one.  Hopefully I'll manage to get it out sooner than this one.  Also, for those of you wondering about Autumn, Hazel, and their respective boyfriends – that group will reappear as soon as we've dealt with the vampires and werewolves.  I'd say two more parts, and they'll be back.

Disclaimer – The song lyrics belong to _Jekyll and Hyde_.  The song is "Once Upon a Dream."  Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling.  I think that covers it for this chapter.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed: HarryPotterObsesser, Piri Lupin-Snape, crazyme89, Blood-Covered-Ivory, Rose Dawson, Mary, CuteSarah, Tricia, Aerowynn, Alarium, Jessica, Chaser of the full moon, Michelle Riddle, Diva937, OliveGurl, cyanide blue, Arwen, Lady Ella, Kali Shadow, Mistress Tinsel, Gypsy Malfoy, Maddy, ImperialJedi, Zelgadis Girl, nycgal, EmmaCF, Andrea Heidern, EclypsCC1, Tigerz-Angel, Robyn D. Clark, draicana.  I love you all!

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	16. Red As Blood

Dreaming Of You

Author's Note:  I would like to apologize for the horrendous delay on this chapter.  I know, I'm getting really bad about this, and… well… I'm sorry.  This chapter took especially long because there were difficult scenes that had to be rewritten multiple times.

However, please rest assured that I will not abandon this fic.  I might have several months between updates, but I will not just stop writing.  Long periods of time with no update just means that I've been having writing problems, either with computer time or with writers' block.

Also, I'd like to warn you all that this is the point where the story starts getting darker.  There will still be a few light parts, but… not in this chapter.

**_Part 15 – Red As Blood_**

****

**Chapter 25**

_Once there was a time  
Like no other time before  
Hope was still an open door _

_Once upon a dream_

_And I was unafraid  
The dream was so exciting  
But now I see it fade  
And I am here alone._

            "Bloody _idiot!"  Miache glared at Xavier.  "What would you rather have intact – your sister, or her honor?"_

            Xavier said nothing, staring resolutely away from his burned hand.

            "I wasn't aware her honor was intact in the first place," Ferox said with a cold smile.  "Though it's hardly an issue, of course."  He glanced around.  "Now then.  I believe my Master required two hostages.  Two human women, if I am correct.  Where are they?"

            Lianne ducked behind Severus when he translated for her.  _Typical Hufflepuff,_ he thought in disgust.  Of course, it was probably the wisest course, since the wolf wasn't looking for a human man.  But it certainly wasn't very brave.

            "They left, of course," Miache lied calmly.  "They didn't want to get involved in a war."

            "I don't believe that."  Ferox ignored her.  He scanned the crowd, and Severus reflected that it was probably for the best that Lianne was short.  It wouldn't help her if the wolves decided to do a full investigation, involving things like movement and effort, but for a quick glance around the room she should be all right.

            Unfortunately, the Alpha didn't appear content with that.  "Search for them," he commanded two of his wolves.  They had only just begun when Sekihei returned with a vampire girl – the princess, presumably – and Erin.

            Ferox held up a hand, frowning at the human girl.  "Wait."  He scrutinized Erin.  "This girl is one of the humans we're to capture."

            "I am?"  It appeared to be news to Erin.  Then Severus frowned.

            "I thought she didn't speak French?" he whispered to Lianne.

            "She doesn't," came the witch's bemused reply.

            "She is," Ferox confirmed to his wolves.  He fixed his attention on Erin.  "Girl!  Where is your companion?"  Erin glanced over at Prissy.  "Not her!"

            "I don't know," Erin told him.  "I was being held hostage, I don't know where anyone is."

            "Hostage?"  Ferox laughed shortly.  "Well, then you'll be used to it."  He looked at Sekihei.  "You were holding her?"

            "Of course," the Countess said impatiently.  "Xavier grabbed her."

            "Why not the other one?" Ferox demanded.

            "How should I know?"  Sekihei shook her head.  "Does it matter?  She's right in here."

            "Is she?"  A smile spread over the Alpha's face.  "I thought she would be.  Where was she when you left?"

            "With that other human."  Sekihei glanced around, and her eyes alighted on Severus and Lianne.  "There.  She's hiding behind him."

            "Another human?"  The Alpha did not look pleased as he turned to Severus.  The Potions master drew his wand surreptitiously.  "This is unexpected.  I wonder if the Master would prefer to have you added to his hostage collection, or to have you die?"

            Severus, having been doing some quick thinking while Ferox had his discussion with Erin and Sekihei, answered, "I doubt the Master would be at all happy if you were to kill one of his trusted servants."  He reached back and grabbed Lianne's arm, pulling her in front of him.  "Or didn't you know that he sent another Death Eater to handle the hostages."

            "What?" Miache all but shrieked.  "You – you _traitor!  You're on the goddamned _Circle_!"_

            Severus shrugged, holding firmly to a very confused Lianne.  She didn't seem inclined to struggle as yet, which was good.  He wasn't sure he could keep her from escaping without hurting her, and if he had to turn her over to the wolves, they would definitely hurt her.  Hopefully she realized that.

            "An insider?"  Then the light in the Alpha's eyes went out.  "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

            In response, Severus raised his left arm, holding Li only with his right and praying she wouldn't try to make a break for freedom.  Whether out of terror, shock, or an actual understanding of his plan, she stayed put as he shook back his sleeve and exposed his Dark Mark.

            "Double-crossing bastard."  Miache looked as though the only thing preventing her from tearing his throat out then and there was the fact that she thought he might be able to kill Lianne before she could finish him off.

            "Lianne!"

            Severus's attention was distracted at Lupin's cry of dismay.  He looked over to see the man – as shockingly clad as all the other wolves – being led in between two other, much more muscular wolves.  Beside him, being half-dragged as well as led by his guards, was a young man who had apparently been through a decidedly brutal beating.  Severus didn't need to hear the princess call out his name to realize this had to be the Alpha's son, Delaney.

            "Prissy – "  Whatever the boy had been about to say was cut off when one of his guards jammed an elbow into his ribs.  This upset both Lupin and the princess, but neither of them was allowed to get more than a step closer to Delaney before being stopped.

            Ferox stared impassively at his son, and Severus wondered at the lack of feeling in the wolf's gaze.  Surely he cared something for the boy?  His own flesh and blood?

            "You brought this on yourself, Delaney," the Alpha said, looking for all the world as if he was not even especially interested.  As if it was someone else's son who stood there, bruised and broken.  "You have only yourself to thank for whatever pain you are in.  I have renounced you already, and now I do so again.  You are nothing to me."

            "It's mutual," Delaney assured him, with what breath he'd regained.  He looked over at Priscilla.  "I love you, Pri- "  Another elbow shut him up as the vampire girl burst into tears.

            "Lane!  Oh, God, Lane!"  She struggled against Sekihei, who held her in place, but apparently at least some of the woman's fat was muscle.  That, or the princess was exceptionally weak.

            Ferox looked over at her.  "So you're the vampire that turned Delaney's head."  He looked her up and down, making her flush bright red beneath her tears, before turning back to his son.  "I must say, you might have chosen a prettier girl, if you _had to have a vampire."_

            "Don't talk about her that way!" Xavier objected, eyes dark with pain from his hand, in addition to fierce anger.

            Ferox's eyes moved to the prince.  "Didn't you learn anything the first time you tried to defend her honor?"

            "No."

            The Alpha shrugged.  "Well, it hardly matters now.  Countess?"

            "Prissy!"  When Delaney and Erin both cried the girl's name, Severus realized that Sekihei had produced from somewhere a small squirt gun, and she was holding it millimeters from the bare skin of Prissy's temple.

            "Don't try anything," the Countess advised them, smirking.  "This is holy water, sprinkled with garlic.  Perhaps the Lady Phoenix would be unaffected, but it should more than take care of a mere Owl.  Especially if it eats into her brain."

            Erin didn't dare move as the wolf who appeared to be in charge approached.  "Give me the gun," he said, his hand enclosing it.  "I will be the one who destroys her."

            At that moment, Erin would gladly have stabbed him with a silver knife, if only she'd happened to have one.  She didn't know much about what happened when vampires touched holy water, but she was sure it would not be a pleasant death.

            But maybe she wouldn't have stabbed him.  She seemed unable to move, whether from terror or from some vampire's mind control.  She wanted so badly to knock that gun out of the wolf's hands, but she couldn't seem to make her limbs obey.

            Prissy glanced at Erin, then looked quickly away, as though she didn't wish to draw attention to her friend.  Erin's heart twisted, and unshed tears blurred her sight.  Why should this poor girl die, just because she fell in love?  This wasn't right.  It wasn't fair.  And it was going to happen, right here and right now, and there was nothing anyone could do.  No one could stop it in time.  No one could plead, or bargain, or pray.  No one could do anything, except watch.

            The wolf smiled with a cruel triumph that was more repellent than any sneer could have been.  And he squeezed the trigger.

            She had expected something to happen to stop him, Erin realized.  Somehow, she hadn't really believed he would be allowed to go through with it.  She hadn't believed that the universe wouldn't intervene, somehow, and say _no, this is wrong._

            But she hadn't expected it to have no effect.

            Prissy stomped hard on the wolf's foot and thrust her elbow violently into his gut.  Being a wolf, and stronger than either humans or vampires, it didn't affect him as it would have someone else.  But it did distract him long enough for Prissy to pull a knife – a silver knife – from the front of her dress.

            She didn't say anything.  She didn't laugh, or gloat, or even smile.  She just struck out as she turned, and slashed the wolf across the throat.

            It wasn't a powerful strike.  The knife ended up lodged about a third of the way into the wolf's neck.  But that, in addition to the silver, was more than enough.

            Everyone stared as Ferox collapsed.  Prissy ignored the crowd, calmly bending down to scoop the squirt gun out of the limp fingers clasping it, and turned to face Sekihei.

            "You killed my aunt."  Prissy's face was cold, and somehow transformed from what Erin expected to see there.  "You chose to follow a foreign human, rather than your own queen."

            Sekihei said nothing.  She was as close to the princess as Erin, close enough to see the change in the girl's face.  The tears were gone, as if they'd never been.  Helpless hysterics were miles away from this cool, capable young woman.

            When it was clear the Countess would deny nothing, Prissy raised her gun and shot a long stream of water into the older vampire.  Realizing what was happening an instant too late, Sekihei tried to duck out of the way.  She succeeded only in allowing the holy water to touch more of her skin.  Erin hastily closed her eyes against the sight of burning flesh, but she knew the smell, and the screams, would echo in her mind for a very long time.

            "Your Highness?"

            Erin opened her eyes.  Miache stood there, her confusion plain on her usually unreadable face.

            Prissy raised an eyebrow, looking eerily like her grandmother as she pocketed the squirt gun.  "Miache?"

            "What was…"  The Phoenix hesitated briefly, motioning to the two dead bodies Erin was resolutely not looking at.  "What was that?"

            "They were in my way," Prissy explained.  "Now they aren't."

            Miache frowned slightly.  "That wasn't what I meant.  That holy water ought to have killed you."

            "Oh.  Yes."  Prissy smiled sweetly.  "Apparently I'm a bit more powerful than I thought."  She began picking her way through the people in the room.

            Some of the wolves shifted uneasily, as if unsure whether or not they ought to attack.  "Murderess!" one brave – or stupid – soul called out into the otherwise silent room.

            Prissy stopped and turned in the direction of the voice.  "That's quite an accusation, coming from a wolf," she said, her eyes wide. Yet somehow, they'd lost the bright innocence they'd had just an hour before.  "I thought you believed in trial by combat."

            "This is hardly a combat," Miache spoke up, a frown still forming a crease between her eyebrows.  "Killing the Alpha was possibly not the brightest course of action.  Now you've got a leaderless mob on your hands."

            "Don't be silly, Miache," Prissy said, continuing to cross the room.  "Lane will be leader."

            Erin noted that this seemed to be news to Lane.

            "We won't follow him," spoke up a female wolf who had entered with the people holding Remus hostage.  "The wolves don't work like that.  The Alpha title isn't hereditary."

            "I know."  Prissy smiled at her.  "It's decided by combat, isn't it?  Whoever kills the current Alpha becomes the new Alpha?"  But this point, Prissy had reached the throne.  A pile of dust and clothing lay there, along with the Queen's crown, and a wooden stake.  Erin realized, swallowing hard, that this must be all that was left of Queen Desdemona.  Prissy looked down at the throne with distaste as she removed the crown from the dust.  "Someone get rid of this mess."

            "Your Highness."  Miache's voice was low and penetrating in the bewildered silence.  "You do realize what it is you've just said, don't you?"

            "I won't insult you by pretending I think you're referring to the throne."  Prissy turned to look across the room at the Phoenix.  "Of course I know.  I've killed the Alpha.  That makes me leader of the wolf clan."

            "You are a vampire!"  The wolf woman's shriek was audible even over the outburst of protest from the entire room, wolves and vampires alike.

            "I'm well aware of that," Prissy said calmly when the noise died down.  "I certainly don't intend to rule you."  There was a general sigh of relief.  "Lane will do it for me, when we're married."

            "You can't really mean to marry him," Hera said disbelievingly, staring at her cousin from the surrounding group.  "Grandmother is dead, and that makes you the queen.  You have responsibilities."

            Prissy laughed.  Erin shivered at the sound.  The more Prissy talked, the more nervous Erin was getting.  Something strange had happened.  This was not the girl she'd met in captivity.  While everyone's attention was focused on Prissy and whomever she chose to speak to, Erin slowly began edging across the room to Remus and Lane.  She wasn't sure what she'd do when she got there, but she somehow felt safer, being near Remus.  Even if he was currently being held by two very strong wolves.

            "I know my responsibilities, Hera.  I always have."  Prissy shook her head.  "I never could believe how silly everyone else is.  You just don't seem to see what's right in front of your noses."

            "What are you talking about?"  Hera looked over at Xavier when Prissy did not appear to be inclined to answer with anything other than another laugh.  "Xavier?  What does she mean?"

            "That is entirely up to my sister to reveal, as she chooses."  Xavier smiled and leaned against a wall.  He almost managed to keep the pain of his burnt hand from his face.  "But I will say that she has my complete support.  She always has, from the beginning of this entire affair."

            "We know."  Hera shot him a look of disgust.  "You've made it quite clear that you don't care whether she marries a vampire, a wolf, or a toad."

            Xavier's lazy smile broadened.  "That wasn't what I meant, cousin.  Though of course, if Prissy does take it into her head to marry a toad, I will support her in that, as well."

            "Then what did you mean?" Miache asked, suspicion lacing her words.

            Xavier only turned to his sister expectantly.

            "He refers to the centuries of conflict between vampire and werewolf, of course," Prissy said, as though it should have been obvious.  "It's awfully ridiculous, isn't it?  I'd like to end it."

            "It is ended," one of the wolves spoke up bravely.  "We've defeated you, girl – you're just too blind to see it."

            "Perhaps."  Prissy smiled serenely.  "But the point remains that I am the one who defeated your leader.  Who will now lead the Ganrou?  Your Trademaster?  Or maybe your Huntmaster?"

            "Either of them, before that _boy_!"

            "Either of them?  Of course, how silly of me not to see it.  But," Prissy opened her eyes wide, "how will you decide which one?"

            "Trial by combat."  The wolf was on safer ground here.  "As we always have."

            "Ah."  Prissy nodded sagely.  "You obey the laws of trial by combat?  The best shall triumph?  Only the strong may rule?"

            "Exactly."  The wolf didn't seem to notice the twist of logic in Prissy's words, behind the innocent smile.

            "Why, then, by your own admission, I must rule, because I have proved myself strongest!"  Prissy looked delighted with her reasoning.

            "You must _not!"  "Never!"  "We'd sooner drink molten silver!"_

            "That can be arranged, if you wish," Prissy said, in reply to the last speaker.  "But truly, hear me out."  The wolves murmured angrily.  "What sense is there to fight amongst ourselves?  You say that the strongest must rule – and who could be stronger than an alliance of vampires and werewolves?"

            The vampires didn't like that part either, and again it was Hera who spoke for them.  "What makes you think the vampires would ever want to ally with wolves?  You're mad to think it – mad for love of that wolf boy!"

            "Oh, try to see sense for once, Hera!  This doesn't have to be about Lane and me," Prissy said derisively.  "Only think about it – an alliance would benefit both groups, and allow us to focus on a foe worthy of our combined power."

            "And what foe might that be?" Miache spoke up slowly, foreboding in her eyes.

            Prissy smiled sweetly, in much the same way Xavier often did.  "Of course, Lady Phoenix.  I never thought you would support such a plan.  It would weaken your authority, wouldn't it?  Yours would not be the only voice that the Queen would hear.  And I assure you – "

            "You are not answering the question," Miache said, advancing on the young vampire girl.  "_What foe?"_

            Prissy's eyes darkened as she steadily met the Phoenix's gaze.  "The worst enemy to face both our nations – the human race."

            "She _is mad."  One of the wolves holding Remus whispered the words, though too softly for anyone else to hear.  He had sense enough not to draw attention to himself, as several other wolves had done._

            "She's _not!" Lane hissed from Remus's right, and it spoke much about the guards' state of mind that he was not beaten into silence for his audacity.  But Remus had to wonder – how much of what Prissy was saying did Lane believe?_

            Lane had reacted to the new Queen's pronouncements with as much surprise as anyone else – and from what Remus had seen of the young wolf, he abhorred falseness far too much to be any good at acting.  Which meant that he hadn't heard about these plans before.  He'd been convinced he was going to die here.  Prissy hadn't told him about any of this.

            And in Remus's mind, that line of reasoning led directly to trouble.  Someone was playing a very deep game here, and he had some nasty suspicions about just who it was.

            Miache appeared to feel the same way.  "The human race?  You would unite the vampires and werewolves against the _humans_?"

            "I would not expect you to understand, Lady Phoenix."  The girl's voice was deceptively innocent.  The words should have been a sneer, or an insult, or spoken in some other tone to show her feelings.  "It is as the Countess had so often said – you gain much from advising compassion towards those who persecute us.  It does not bother you that your own people are murdered at every turn by iron-wielding, torch-bearing mobs, while the darkest of the humans rampages onward ignored by those same mobs who cry 'evil' and 'villains' to us!"

            "You speak of the British Dark Lord," Miache said slowly.

            "You would ally with _him_?" a vampire cried in outrage.  "When he supported the murder of the Queen, your aunt?"

            "The vampires, ally with this Voldemort?"  Prissy wrinkled her nose in distaste.  "Certainly not."

            "Then what did you mean, if not an alliance?" Miache wanted to know.  She seemed to be connecting the dots in the same way Remus was, and she didn't seem any more pleased with the results than he was.

            Prissy smiled grimly.  "Annihilation."  She turned to the wolves before they could speak in defense of their Master.  "Come, surely you see that it is better to rule in your own right, than to follow a mere human!"

            "Do you choose to fight the Dark Lord, then?"  The question came from Snape, who was still holding Lianne prisoner.  Remus wasn't entirely sure _why the other man was doing this, though presumably he had his reasons.  Come to think of it, he wasn't sure why Snape was there in the first place.  To investigate Remus's disappearance, maybe?_

            "Your Dark Lord, and all other humans beside him."  Prissy looked a bit miffed that this statement didn't immediately terrify the Potionsmaster, but the others' reactions more than made up for it.

            "You know the treaty we signed," objected the vampire Prissy had referred to as her cousin, Hera.  "We can't – "

            "That treaty," Prissy interrupted deliberately, "was made with humans.  And might I remind you how few humans have stopped in their murder of vampires?  They are treacherous, lying beasts, and they deserve all the suffering we can heap upon their heads."

            The room was silent.  Of course, most Dark creatures felt that way at one time or another.  Even Remus sometimes hated humans for the way they shunned him.  But it had been many, many years since a leader had arisen to urge battle with the humans.  And never, to Remus's knowledge, had any Dark creature's leader suggested an alliance, even to destroy the human race.

            Miache was the one who broke the silence.  "You would break your aunt's promise not to kill or enslave humankind?"

            Prissy smiled.  "I have just said so, have I not?"

            Miache's ominous expression did not lighten in the least.  "This is treason."

            "Treason?  I think not."  Prissy laughed lightly.  "You forget – I am now the Queen.  I don't believe it is possible for the Queen to commit treason against herself."

            "It is treason against the Queen, your aunt," Miache said relentlessly.  "And I will not allow it."

            "You would stop me, then?"  Prissy raised an eyebrow.  "Now who commits treason?"

            Ignoring her words, Miache walked slowly forward, till she was barely a yard away from the young Queen.  "I Challenge you," she said softly.

            "Snape?  Snape, listen to me!"  Lianne twisted in his grasp to glare at him as he shushed her absently.  "I will _not hush!  What's going on?"_

            Annoyed, Severus glared back at her.  "We _would send an emissary that can't speak French," he muttered, only half to himself.  "Hold still, you'll draw their attention.  And believe me, you do _not_ want this group paying attention to us right now."_

            "Well, if you'd tell me what they're saying, then maybe I might have known," she pointed out.

            "The princess – the Queen, now – has declared war against the human race," Severus told her hurriedly.  "She's trying to stir up resentment against us.  And as members of the human race, we are most definitely not going to be welcome guests, once she remembers we're here."

            Terror showed in the woman's eyes, but at least she had sense enough not to panic.  "Miache will protect us," she said finally, trying to sound optimistic despite the tremor in her voice.

            Severus rolled his eyes.  "Miache has just Challenged Priscilla."

            "What – not a formal Challenge?"  Lianne bit her lip.  "But… a duel to the death, between a Phoenix and an Owl?  That's not very fair."

            "Oh, so you'd prefer to give the girl a sporting chance to kill us?"  Severus shook his head.  Stupid woman.  This was what came of letting former Hufflepuffs do anything of importance.  "In this instance, I, for one, am entirely in favor of unfairness."

            The sudden gasp from the surrounding crowd of vampires and wolves drew Severus's attention back to the two vampires.  Priscilla had apparently accepted the Challenge – not that she could do anything else, and keep whatever respect her people might still have for her.

            Without warning, Miache shot straight upwards, to hover in the air several feet above Priscilla's head.  The test was clear – could the new Queen do as much?

            She could.  Priscilla floated gently from the floor until she was just the tiniest bit higher than the Phoenix.

            It was a tame enough beginning, but Severus knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.  Cautiously, while the observers had all their attention focused on the combatants, he began edging towards the wall.  When Lianne felt him move, she started to ask why – then mercifully shut up when she met his eyes.

            By the time they were about a quarter of the way to the wall, the fight had moved on to mind control.  Uneasily, Severus noticed how Miache seemed to strain, with no effect on Priscilla.  Odd, for a girl known to be a mere Owl.  The Phoenix should have had no trouble seizing the girl's mind.

            Lianne, it seemed, had picked up on the same thing.  "How come Miache hasn't won yet?" she asked anxiously.  "I thought the Order of the Phoenix was the most powerful one."

            "It is."  Severus didn't even think to snap at her for being stupid – he was worried about exactly the same thing.  But he was approaching it from a decidedly different angle.

            Finally, Miache gave up on the mind control, and drew on the one weapon that Priscilla could not best.  As she flung herself backwards, her human body shifted to that of a Phoenix, in all her fiery glory.

            Shrilling with triumph, the Phoenix arched her flight higher upwards, then swooped down at the other vampire.

            But Priscilla wasn't there.  Instead, the red Phoenix had to pull up short to avoid a headlong collision with a second Phoenix, this one as black as the Queen's hair.

            The vampires erupted at this, and Severus didn't blame them.  He was decidedly shaken, himself.  So Priscilla was a Phoenix, too, was she?  That explained why she hadn't been afraid to speak against Miache and all the redhead stood for.  But that did not bode well for the rest of them.

            Severus took advantage of the distraction to drag Lianne even further away.  The odds of getting out of this place alive were getting worse by the instant, but if they couldn't escape, they could at least send out warning to the Circle.  If Priscilla succeeded in leading an army of vampires and wolves against the humans, Dumbledore, as well as the leaders of other countries, had to be forewarned.

            "Have you got your Glacialispeculum?" Severus asked, once they'd reached the relative shelter of the wall.

            "What?"  Lianne blinked, tearing her eyes away from the battling Phoenixes.  "Oh, yes, of course."  She pulled it out of her bag.  "Should we – "

            "Oh, I zhink _not_."  Xavier's hand swooped from out of nowhere to snatch the Glacialispeculum from Lianne's grasp.  "Now, really, Lady Black – is zhis 'ow you repay our 'ospitality?  Ve take you in, let you paint us, listen to your dull prattling about evil overlords and Circles, and you try to call your friends to complain?"

            "You knew this would happen right from the beginning, didn't you?" Lianne accused him, her face pale.  "You were in league with that awful fat woman, and you betrayed her, and now you're going to kill us."

            "Precisely."  Xavier smiled angelically.  "Really, you ought to know better zhan to trust a vampire."

            Severus debated trying the Death Eater bluff again, but he doubted it would have much effect on Xavier.  The prince probably wouldn't care what Severus was, Death Eater or Auror.

            Lianne, meanwhile, looked as though she was going to burst into tears.  "_Why_?" she asked plaintively.  "We never did anything to you.  What do you have against _us_?"

            "You're 'uman.  Zhat's reason enough."  Xavier shook his head, expression somber.  "Vhat 'ave your people ever done except murder mine?  It is only justice.  So long you 'ave been in control, so long you 'ave persecuted us – vould you deny zhat it is _our turn to rule, to murder, to destroy?"_

            "I never did!" Lianne protested.  "And neither did Snape.  Why would you judge us on what our whole race has done?  There have to have been some evil vampires – would you like to be judged by them?"

            "Ah, but zhere, you see, is ze catch."  Xavier laughed.  "I _am vun of ze evil vampires.  Do-gooders like your Lady Miache are ze exception – not ze rule.  Ve are cruel, Lady Black.  Ve are dark.  Ve are menaces, monsters, villains zhat haunt your nightmares and pursue you through ze shadows.  Ve are not nice.  Ve are not gentle.  But remember," Xavier leaned down so he was eye to eye with the smaller witch, "ve are vhat you made us."_

            Severus pulled Lianne away, out of the vampire's reach.  The two of them might be killed, but he'd be damned if he'd let either of them be enslaved to the vampire's will through his eyes.

            Xavier glanced at Severus, his mouth curling into a mocking smile.  "So.  You fear being overpowered and forced to obey me?"

            Severus kept his eyes steadily on the vampire's chest.  "I will not let you bait me."

            "No?"  Suddenly, lightning-quick, Xavier's hand shot out to grab Severus's chin, and force his eyes up – 

             – just as a burst of red and gold winged fire slammed into him.  The two men were flung against the wall, along with the Lady Phoenix.

            The black Phoenix gently landed on the floor before the three, smoothly transforming into a vampire girl again.  She smiled, seeing that Xavier had managed to pin her opponent.  "I win."

            Lianne backed away from the scene, praying the princess, or the Queen, or whatever she was wouldn't notice one small human woman.  The only reason she could keep herself from flat-out bolting was because that would draw even more attention to her – attention she definitely did not want just now.

            _I hope Snape is ok, too, she thought anxiously, watching as Prissy kicked him harshly in the gut.  She winced in sympathy as the Potionmaster curled up in agony.  __Oh, God, let him be ok…_

            "Lady Black!"

            Lianne caught her breath at the sharp whisper, turning quickly to see who had spoken.

            It was Hera, the other princess, and she did not look pleased by her cousins' actions.  "Lady, you shouldn't still be 'ere," Hera said urgently.  "You must flee – now, vhile zhey're distracted wiz ze Challenge."

            Lianne shook her head firmly.  "My friends are still here."

            "Zhat man?  Ze girl?  Or do you mean zhat volf?"  Hera shook her head.  "Zhey're as good as dead, Lady.  Zhey've been captured already.  Don't you 'ave a duty to spread ze alarm to your people?"

            "I – but – "  Lianne knew the girl had a point – and surely a princess would know what duty meant – but how could she just go?  It would mean leaving her friends, people she cared about.  All right, maybe she didn't _like_ Snape all that much, but she certainly respected him, for the important tasks he performed for the Circle.  And how could she abandon Remus, one of her first friends when she'd been brought into another country – another world!

            And then there was Erin.  Lianne could remember what it had felt like to have all your foundations snatched out from under you, to be painfully torn away and shoved into a new life that you had to deal with or die.  She'd had friends, kind and wonderful people, to support her during her ordeal, and comfort her when she'd wept and screamed and the unfairness of the world for robbing her of family, friends, and home all in one blow.  She didn't know what she would have done without those people.

            _And don't I have a duty to do the same for Erin?  Lianne knew that she did.  Erin didn't have anyone else here.  Her old friends were gone, lost in the desolate emptiness of memory, and she hadn't had time yet to make new ones.  One could argue that she had Remus… but Remus was captured as well.  Besides, he seemed to have enough problems with that poor wolf boy._

            No, Lianne couldn't see any way to argue it except that it was her duty to protect Erin, as long as she could.  Maybe Sirius, or Miache, or someone brave and noble might have chosen differently, but Lianne didn't know how to think like they did.  She could only follow her own train of logic, disjointed and derailed though it might be.  She only had her own conscience.  She only had her own mind.

            "I can't go," she told Hera, squaring her shoulders with decision.  "I've got to help Erin."

            Hera stared at her in disbelief.  Slowly, she shook her head.  "I don't know if I should damn you as a fool, or bless you as a saint.  Very vell.  You vant to rescue your friend?  Ve vill rescue your friend."

            Lianne blinked.  "We?"

            Hera shrugged.  "My cousin cannot afford to let me live.  I may as vell die fighting, and zhis is as good a cause as any.  So," she raised an eyebrow, "vhat vas your plan from 'ere?"

            "Plan?  Oh, right."  Lianne scanned the room, and spotted Erin hovering – of course – near Remus.  "First we need to distract those guards – "

            Hera hissed for silence.  Lianne drew back indignantly, then realized Prissy was speaking again.  "What's she saying?"

            "She again lays claim to ze two thrones," Hera whispered, eyes steadily following her cousin's every move.  "She commands 'er volf lover to be released.  She vants to marry 'im now."

            Lianne, along with everyone else in the room, looked over at Lane.  For a boy who had been perfectly willing to cause a war to be with this girl, he looked very reluctant to wed her.

            "He doesn't seem too happy about it," she ventured.

            "Vell, no," Hera said, as though it were obvious.  "I suppose 'e vouldn't be."  She noticed Lianne's failure to follow the line of reasoning.  "You really don't see vhy?"

            "Should I?" Lianne asked, after considering it a moment.

            Hera studied the witch for a few seconds, then sighed.  "You vould never survive in ze vampire society, dear."

            Lianne smiled faintly.  "I guessed that a long time ago."

            "Are you going to go to her?"

            Erin hung back, watching, as Remus spoke to the wolf boy, Lane.  She wanted to approach them, but the boy looked so agitated, she thought he might have hysterics at any moment.  She'd hate to be the cause of that.

            "Go?  To her?"  There was fear in Lane's eyes, a wild panic that was as much terrifying as terrified.  "I don't know."

            "Well, you've got to either go or stay – " Remus began reasonably.

            Lane cut him off.  "No.  I meant I don't know _her_."  He stared at the slender girl in the black dress who waited calmly for him in the middle of the room.  "Who is she?"

            Erin felt much the same way.  That girl wasn't Prissy.  She couldn't be.  Prissy was kind, and shy, and desperate for approval of any sort, no matter how little.  She wasn't a dark menace who spoke like velvet and moved like a tiger.  She wasn't a murderer.

            "It's a mistake," she whispered, needing the comfort of a human voice, even if it was only her own.  "It's got to be a mistake."

            "What?"  Lane jerked around, his eyes bordering on madness.

            "Erin!"  The mixture of emotions in Remus's voice would have been interesting to analyze, if the situation hadn't been so horrible.  "You should have gotten out."

            Erin shrugged, uncomfortably aware of Lane's eyes still on her.  He spoke before she could.  "You said it was a mistake."

            "I didn't mean for anyone to hear that," Erin said quickly.  "I just – "  She swallowed against the lump that inexplicably formed in her throat.  "I just can't believe Prissy could do this."

            "You know her?"  A light flickered in Lane's eyes.  A light of hope, just barely alive.  That light was so faint, though Erin could see it had the potential to be so bright, so consuming.  She couldn't bear the thought of being the one who put it out for good.

            "A little," she admitted.  "Not very well."

            Lane leaned forward eagerly.  "And you don't think she'd do this, do you?"

            "It does seem unlikely."  Erin cautiously stepped closer.  "She seemed so nice."

            "She is," Lane agreed quickly.  "Nice, and gentle, and loving – not this.  This is what those wolves are."  Erin could almost believe she saw the train of thoughts as they crossed his mind.  "Because she wants them to accept her."

            Remus immediately saw where this was heading.  "Lane, I don't think – "

            "It all makes sense now!" Lane exclaimed, overriding Remus as the light blazed in his eyes.  "She knew there was no way we could ever get away, so she's arranging it so we won't have to!  This way, the wolves will accept her, and the vampires will accept me.  The speech about war, and killing humans, that was just an excuse to get that Phoenix woman out of the way.  I knew my Prissy could never be this callous!"  His eyes shone with starry idealism as he gazed wonderingly at Erin.  "Thank you, whoever you are.  Thank you so much."

            With that, he shook the guards away from him and stumbled towards the new Queen.

            Remus watched him go, eyes dark.  "I wish you hadn't said that," he said quietly.

            Erin nodded.  "Believe me, so do I."  Lane finally reached the center, and Prissy took his hand.  "Will they need to find a priest?"

            "A priest?  To marry a vampire and a werewolf?"  Remus snorted softly.  "We should be so lucky.  No, she'll do it.  The vampire Queen is authorized to perform marriage ceremonies.  Not religiously, of course – religions tend not to like vampires – but legally."

            They fell silent as Prissy called for a wolf from the crowd, as the groom's required witness.  Unsurprisingly, no one stepped forward.

            "She did mean it, didn't she?" Erin asked suddenly.  "About destroying the human race."

            Remus hesitated, then looked away, unable to meet her eyes.  He seemed to feel personally responsible for the Queen's words and actions.  "Yes."

            Erin nodded sadly.  "I thought so."

            "Lupin!"

            Prissy's call cut their conversation short.  Remus looked warily at the Queen.  "Your Majesty?"

            Her lips curved slightly at the address.  "Lane wishes you to serve as his witness."

            Erin could tell Remus was not pleased, though he quickly composed himself.  "I would be honored."  _As if he could say anything else, _Erin thought, her heart sinking as he walked away from her, towards the royal couple.

            "And Mistress Erin Connor."

            That certainly caught her attention.  Erin stared at Prissy in shock, and horror.  "Me?"

            Prissy nodded gracefully.  "You will be my witness, of course, will you not?"  When Erin hesitated, an expression of dismay crossed the vampire girl's face, and Erin could almost believe the Queen was still the insecure creature who'd been locked up for loving the wrong boy.  "You did say I could call you my sister."

            What could Erin say to that?  That she'd made that promise to a different girl, a sweet girl, who would die before threatening someone?  That she wouldn't do this?  Yes, she could say any of those things – and be killed seconds after.

            "I – I guess so," she said carefully, wishing desperately for a way out as she made her way towards the one place in the room she did not want to be.

            Then, miraculously, a way out appeared.  "She can't witness."  The objection came from Princess Hera, of all people, who stood beside Lianne.  "It isn't legal.  She's human, not a vampire."

            "I'm well aware of that."  Prissy smiled.  "However, it is a difficulty that is easily put right."

            Erin froze.  "You said you wouldn't," she said desperately, as Prissy approached.  "You said you'd leave me alone."

            "Oh, Erin, how could I do that?"  Prissy's eyes were wide with earnestness.  "You're wasted as a human, you know.  You're so smart, so observant, so brave – you could make a brilliant vampire."

            "I'll stay as I am, thanks."  Erin tried to back away – and found she couldn't.  Her feet were stuck firmly to the floor, her legs paralyzed from the waist down.  "Let me _go_!"

            Prissy smiled as sweetly and innocently as she ever had.  "No."

            Erin stared at her, at the eyes that appeared so guileless, but were a thousand times not.  "Why me?"

            Prissy laughed.  "Because I like you, Erin.  You remind me of myself a century or so back – before I realized what the world was really like.  You are ignored by your friend, your love, by everyone you meet – and don't tell me it's not true.  You had been abandoned by Lady Black when I met you, had you not?"

            "She was busy," Erin objected.

            "Of course," Prissy said, nodding tolerantly.  "That's what I said, at first.  They always are busy, you know.  It never ends.  It's never your turn, your time, not if you sit patiently and wait for it.  I learned that when they scorned me, again and again, because I was part of so low an Order.  I only want to spare you learning that.  I want to teach you to be one of the elite – the ones who will never be scorned again."

            "One of the vampires," Erin said flatly.

            "You would rather be human?"  Prissy raised an eyebrow.  "After I've just said the human race will be destroyed or enslaved?  Surely you would prefer to be my sister in blood, instead.  As I said, you're far too good to be a slave or a victim.  You're too much like me, to be destroyed.  You were made to be my sister, Erin.  To be a princess.  To be special."

            "I…"  Erin bit down on her lip, trying to think.  What Prissy was saying did make sense – and she had to admit, the idea of being a princess, sister to the Queen, was tempting – but it still felt wrong, somehow.  She heard a faint buzzing echoing in her ears.  Funny, that.  It sounded almost like Lianne.  But she couldn't understand what Li was saying.  "I can't…"

            "You can," Prissy urged her.  "Only think – what's left for you as a human?  Your friend Lady Black doesn't care about you.  Did she come when you were kidnapped?  Did she rescue you?  Did she pay any attention to you at all since you arrived?  Or did she leave you to wander alone in a strange country, scarcely noticing when you disappeared without a trace?"

            The frantic buzzing in Erin's ears increased in volume, and she could almost pick out individual words.  But she still had no meanings to attach to them.  It was the spell, she realized hazily.  She could understand French in place of English.  And Lianne only knew English.  Erin tried to make sense of the words – "_don't believe her" and "_trust me_," and other such odd phrases, mere sounds strung together at random – but she couldn't._

            "You see?"  Prissy's voice cut through the anguished words.  "She can't even speak to you.  Does that sound like someone who cares for you?"

            "No," Erin had to admit.  "It doesn't.  But – "  She struggled to think.  It was vitally important, somehow, that she should manage to keep thinking.  "But she _does_ care.  That's just how Lianne is, that's all.  She's loyal to me.  I know it."

            "Loyal?"  Prissy shrugged.  "Perhaps.  Loyalty as an abstract concept is all well and good, but the facts remain – you are here, and she is somewhere else.  I would never abandon you, Erin.  No matter what your friends do."

            "My friends haven't abandoned me," Erin protested weakly.  But the Queen was right.  Her friends weren't here, when she needed them most.

            "Haven't they?"  Prissy's smile was bittersweet.  "Not even your love will interfere for you.  He just stands there, watching, as you ask for help.  He doesn't care for you.  He's said so often enough.  Stop deluding yourself, Erin.  I can offer you something real, something true.  Not an empty room and unrequited heartache.  Better by far to choose me.  Better to be one of my people, than a low and mortal human."

            "I – "  Erin swallowed back against tears.  She didn't want any of this.  She wanted to be back home, in America, where there were no vampires and no wolves and no magical friends twenty years older than they should be.  Where there were people who loved her and cared for her.  Prissy was right.  No one here cared anything about her.  They'd only taken her in because they felt sorry for her, the poor little girl who'd lost her home.  Wouldn't it be better to take what Prissy was offering, and to belong somewhere again?  "I – "

            "_No!"_

            The pain, the anguish, the despairing loss in the cry was enough to cut through even a vampire's mind control.  Erin shuddered a little.  Whose voice was that?  Not Lianne's, because Li didn't care.  She knew Li didn't care.  Besides, this was a man's voice.

            "God, no!  Erin, don't listen to her!  Don't believe her!  She's lying – remember what I told you about vampires?  Listen to me – listen to what I'm saying!  _Erin!"_

            Erin looked away from Prissy, over the vampire girl's shoulder.  Who was calling her?

"Don't believe such treacherous lies," Prissy said quickly, trying to catch Erin's eyes again.  "He doesn't care for you.  He only wants to prevent you from achieving what he knows you are capable of."

            Erin was about to turn back to Prissy – her words were so convincing, so _right – when her eyes fell on Remus._

            He was staring wildly at her, eyes tortured with fear – for her? – in the grief-stricken mask of his face.  "Erin!" he called again, desperation increasing now that he had at least part of her attention.

            "Remus?"  Erin blinked a little in confusion.  Why was he so upset?  He didn't care about her.  Even ignoring what Prissy had said, Remus had made it plain he didn't want her.  Why should he care so much about what happened to her now?

            "That's right," Prissy agreed at once.  "He doesn't care.  He's said so.  You're nothing to him.  Worthless."

            "Worthless…"  Erin repeated the word, tasting the bitter reality of how Remus really thought of her.

            He saw the word on her lips – or perhaps he heard it, if wolf ears were that good – and a howl of wordless agony was torn from his wolven soul.  It held all the pain of an animal wounded beyond hope of relief, mingled with the shattering grief known only to the human heart.

            Like a magnet, the cry drew Erin towards it.  But she didn't get more than two paces before Prissy grabbed her shoulders in a grip like steel.

            "No," the vampire girl ground out fiercely.  "_No.  You will do as I command."  She forced Erin to meet her eyes.  "You want to be a vampire.  __Say it."_

            Erin fell into the girl's eyes.  "I – "

            The yells in the background got louder again, louder than they had been even at their last crescendo.

            "I want – "

            The words hammered at her mind, trying to force an entry, to make her comprehend them, but Prissy's power was too strong to break.  Erin could feel the foreign mind speaking through her mouth.

            "I want to be – "

            And then the words came, the words that Erin had wanted to hear so badly that not even a vampire could barricade them away.

            "I love you!"

            Remus's words couldn't break the mind control completely – they were only words, after all – but they did set Erin free for one crucial second.  She swung her hand back and slapped Prissy hard across the face, just before she was lost once more.

            A dark red burn marred Prissy's cheek where the iron ring had connected with her flesh, but the girl showed none of the torture she had to feel.  Her face was set with determination, not pain.

            "You will thank me for this later," Prissy said simply.

            And then she swooped forward, her teeth piercing into Erin's neck.

            There really wasn't anything anyone could have done, Severus would reflect later, when he had time to consider all the events in detail.  Not once the vampire Queen got hold of the girl.  Oh, they'd made choices, reacted, done what they thought was best – but once Erin had fallen into Priscilla's grasp, the outcome couldn't have been any other way.

            Everyone had been watching Priscilla, in a kind of horrified fascination.  Even he had been staring, and he should have known better.  But he just couldn't believe the Queen would actually  bite her.  And so Severus, too, had stood and watched, while the ensuing tragedy took place before his eyes.

            But no one had been watching Delaney Alphasson.  That, everyone agreed later, had been their worst mistake.

            Priscilla and Erin collapsed to the floor together.  At first, Severus thought it was some sort of vampire bloodsucking ritual – but then he saw Delaney.

            The wolf boy was standing behind the two girls, staring down at them with a dead expression on his face.  He reached down, and tugged hard at something.

            A bloody stake came away in his hand.

            In the utter silence that came over the room, the boy folded up on himself, and fell to the ground in a shuddering heap.  The stake clattered to the floor, the sound of wood meeting stone unnaturally loud.

            That sound was the signal for the room to come back to life.  And it appeared that everyone in the room had the same idea – to get to Erin and Priscilla.  The crowd, vampires and werewolves alike, surged forward to the Queen and her victim.  Severus was almost glad he'd been kept in the corner with Xavier.

            Xavier, however, had other ideas.  "Get _BACK!" he roared to the crowding groups.  And, for some reason – probably involving the black rage burning in his eyes – they obeyed.  And the prince bolted for his sister, nearly colliding with Lupin, who was trying to get Erin free from Priscilla's body._

            Severus was about to move forward – Potions and Healing were somewhat similar, and, if Erin had survived, it was just possible that there was something he could do – when a feminine shriek split the air.

            The tragedy had not yet played itself out.

            Although Severus and Lianne later told him it had been piercingly loud, Remus barely registered the scream that grabbed everyone else's attention.  The entire focus of his being was, at that point, centered on Erin.

            _Blood trickled out of the wounds of her neck, tracing a dark line against too-pale skin._

            She looked awful.  She'd lost too much blood.  And the marks in her throat were torn, from when Prissy had fallen with her teeth still attached.  Remus was sure that couldn't be good.  Bad enough that the wounds were there, but that she should lose even more blood, after being once drained…

            "Oh, God!"  Remus gripped her limp wrist, feeling frantically for a pulse.  "Oh, _God, let her be all right!  I'll be a good person for the rest of my life – I'll never complain about being a wolf again – I'll do __anything – only let her be all right!"_

            No response came, either from the heavens or from Erin herself.  A sob broke free of Remus's throat.  "Why didn't you listen to me?" he demanded, his voice harsh with pain.  "Why didn't you stay away from the vampires?  Why didn't I _keep you away?"_

            He reached out and brushed her hair away from her face.  She was beautiful.  Not conventionally, not like Miache, but beautiful nevertheless.  Certainly she was the most beautiful, precious creature Remus had ever seen.  And something so beautiful couldn't be destroyed so early.  It wasn't fair.

            Of course, Remus had long ago learned the cruel lesson life taught, that the world cares for neither justice nor compassion.  It didn't matter if this was fair, if this was right.  This had happened.  He could see that, and see it far too plainly.

_            She didn't have a pulse.  _

            Of all the reasons he'd thought of before, reasons not to fall in love with her, this had never been one of them.  He'd never been afraid that he'd lose her like this.  That she'd leave him, yes, he could believe that very easily.  He'd known that thirty-some-year-old men could rarely hold young girls' attention for long.  But that death would be the lover who stole her away?  He'd never given such a ludicrous idea a moment's thought.

_            She wasn't breathing._

            Remus stared down at her, frozen in a struggle with denial.  This thing that shouldn't be happening – couldn't be happening – was happening.  He wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to do something – _anything_ – except sit there with her.  But he couldn't move, no matter how his mind raged at his body.  All he could do was stay beside her, holding her wrist in his hand, as though if he just felt long enough, her life would restart beneath his fingers.

            _She wasn't moving, either._

            Only the dead can truly lie still.

            The scream that tore through the silence after Xavier's command came from a wolf woman.

            Lianne and Hera, along with the rest of the room, turned to see.  The woman was the one who'd come in with the wolves dragging Remus.  She would have been extremely pretty, if it hadn't been for the terrified revulsion twisting her face into a mask of horror.

            Lianne followed the woman's gaze – and her breath caught in her throat.  While everyone was paying attention to Prissy and Erin, Lane had managed to get hold of the silver knife Prissy had left in the Alpha's throat.  The results were not pretty.

            And the worst part of it was, the wolf boy was still alive.  He'd tried to slit his wrists… but Lianne remembered reading an article about suicides.  There was a special method it took to slit your wrists properly.  Lane apparently hadn't known it.

            Though he didn't really need to.  Lianne knew enough about wolves to be sure that cuts that deep, with a silver knife, would definitely become fatal.

            Eventually, at least.

            Lane looked back at the people staring at him.  There was no apology in his eyes, only a wordless grief as he surveyed the crowd.  It was as though he stood as a living monument to their guilt, dying before their eyes, pleading for the absolution they could not give, and the answers they did not have.  _Why did you do this?_ he seemed to say.  _You stole my life, destroyed my dreams, walled me in and gave me nowhere to run.  Why?_

_            Why didn't you help me?  Why didn't you listen?_

_Why did you leave me alone?_

            No one likes to be accused.  Both the vampires and the wolves drew away, leaving the boy to his chosen fate.

            And the final heartbreak flowed through his eyes.

            He was only young, Lianne realized suddenly.  You didn't notice, because his manner was so much older, but he was really just a young man of perhaps seventeen.  And in the last half hour, he'd seen things that would break even a hardened adult.

            He'd lost the girl he loved, not to a person, not to death, but to the darkness she'd kept hidden in her own soul.  And he'd killed her.  Lianne couldn't begin to imagine the strength of will that must have taken, to be able to destroy the one person you cared that deeply about.  She knew she could never have done that.

            Lane had been abandoned, betrayed, torn loose from all his moorings.  His world had been turned upside-down, with nowhere stable enough to stand for more than an instant, and emotional balance teetering on the pointed edge of a blade.  And now he had been rejected one last time, by the people who could have given him the steady ground he needed to survive.

            Lianne almost went to him then, to give him what comfort she could.  She even took a step towards him.  But she hesitated.  Surely he wouldn't want some silly American stranger, who couldn't even speak his language, to approach him while he was in such pain.

            Or maybe he would have.  She never knew.

            She did learn, however, that slicing open one's jugular vein is even less pretty than slitting one's wrists.

            Severus considered himself somewhat fortunate that he only heard about Delaney's death after everything was over.  From what Lianne said, it was not pleasant to watch.

            He'd been distracted by the wolf woman's scream, yes, along with the rest of the room.  He would have stopped – there were few things as distracting as a shriek of horror – but a pair of rough hands yanked him away.

            "What – "  Severus realized it was Lady Miache, looking decidedly worse for wear after her encounters with Xavier and Priscilla, who was steering him with a grip of steel.  "What are you _doing_?"

            "Taking you to zhat Connor girl," Miache snapped, taking advantage of the crowd's distraction to shove her way through to where Lupin knelt despairingly over Erin's body.  "You're a Potions master, aren't you?  You can 'elp 'er."

            _Help her?_  Severus grimaced.  That depended on the point of view.

            Miache released him when they reached Erin and Lupin.  "Now, before it's too late!"

            Hearing this, Lupin looked up, eyes haunted.  "It's already too late," he said hoarsely.

            Severus hesitated.  "Not necessarily," he said carefully.  "Wait – "  He tried to forestall the hope lighting in Lupin's eyes.  "Don't get too excited, because I don't know if this would help.  But there is a… a sort of potion that could bring her back."

            "Then what are you waiting for?" Lupin demanded.  "Or – can't you make it?"

            Severus gazed at the man for a moment, keeping his face expressionless.  Lupin still didn't seem to understand what he was saying.  Or maybe he just didn't _want_ to understand.

            "It isn't a question of whether I _can_ make it," he said at last.  "It's a question of whether you think she would want me to."

            And dislike of the werewolf or no, in that moment, Severus would have given a year of his life not to have seen the terrible realization that finally grew in Remus Lupin's eyes.

Author's Note:  Well, I did warn you it was a nasty chapter.  From this point on, there's going to be a lot more dark stuff, so consider yourselves warned again.

For those of you who want more about Autumn and Hazel, please be patient.  There's just one more chapter about vampire/werewolf stuff, and then we're going back to the girls in America and the boys in Britain.

Disclaimer – Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling.  The song lyrics are from "Once Upon A Dream" from _Jekyll and Hyde_.  The various original characters, however, are mine.

Now, to all my wonderfully patient reviewers, thank you!

fanfiction.net

Piriotessa – Well, I hope you approve of the way the Countess was dealt with.  And I'm not too fond of the wolves, either.  I suspect I may have an unconscious vampire bias.

Sarah Embry – Thank you!

Selenay – Thank you!

Ashby Everwhite – Thank you!  Please continue to be understanding about my time issues.

Kali Shadow – Well… it wasn't soon… but it's here now!  And field hockey is probably over, too.

Unicorn777 – Thank you!

The Book Worm – The other couples are coming.  The vampire/werewolf mess just has to be dealt with first, that's all.  I like them, too.  It's just an issue of chronology.

Diva937 – Thank you!

Chaser of the full moon – Thank you!

Cyanide blue – Thank you!  I'm glad you recognized the song.  I love the music from _Jekyll and Hyde_!

NYCgirl – Thank you!

Arwen – Yep, you caught the foreshadowing with the language spell.  I'm glad it came across, I was afraid it wouldn't.

Jessica – Yeah, the story did get really far away from the original point, didn't it?  Well, I like the new plot!  It's really a lot more fun! (For me, anyway.  Maybe not for the characters. ^_^)

Draicana – Thanks!  Sorry about the delay… guess the chains will need to be stronger this time around, huh? ^_^

Foxy – Thank you!

Arella Hallo – Thank you!  Believe me, I could hardly forget my class work.  You'll actually see reflections of it in Hazel, later on.

Purple-nail-polish-person – Here's your thank you!  Wow, I'm really flattered.  That review just made my day!  I'm afraid your Erin/Remus snogging scene will have to wait, though.

Tricia – Crazy Mystica?  I kind of like that name… hmm… Anyway.  Sirius will return later.  I miss him, too.  And Lianne _definitely_ misses him. ^_^

Michelle Riddle – Thank you!  Yay!

Tiger Lily – Thank you!

Aerowynn – Well, Remus is no longer in danger of death.  Unless he decides to suicide… *scary music*  But yeah, it wouldn't have been a very fitting death for poor Remus to die at the hands of the other wolves.

Kaji – Thank you!  The accent gave me a lot of problems, especially with the vampire fangs thrown in.  I'm glad it came out well!

Sam000 – Thank you!

Andrea Heidern – Thank you!  And Sirius and Draco are threatening to crash your place about that party – thought you might like the warning. ^_~

Nameless person – Yeah, I know, I'm terrible at consistent updating.  I'm sorry.  Please forgive me?

Foreste Black – Well, I'm not dead, but school has kept me comatose for a while. ^_^  I know it's been a long time.  Again, I'm really sorry.

Waterfall – Thank you!  Don't give up on this story, please.  I may have long periods where I don't update, but I do keep working on it.  I won't abandon it – I like it too much!

EmmaCF – Thank you!

Marauders-chick89 – Wow, I'm honored to hear from a silent reader!  Autumn and Hazel will show up not in the next chapter, but the one after.

Evie – Here's your new chapter!

ChoChang913 -   Thank you!  No, I'm afraid Autumn's going to stay as Draco's love interest.  Sorry.  I think she'd attack me if I tried to change it… ^^;

CCM – Don't worry, I have not stopped writing.  I will warn people if I do stop. (Which I won't.)

Gypsy Malfoy – I did get your fictionalley reviews.  Thank you!  And the other two girls are coming up soon.

Ally – Thank you!

Kalika Aryn – Actually, it wasn't really writer's block that was delaying me.  I mean, I did have to do several rewrites, but the main issue is that I don't have a lot of free time on the computer.

The Person Who Randomly Nags People – I know, I know, I'm a horrible person.  But I don't conspire with other writers – I hate inconsistent updates, too.  As for my failure to meet my deadline… well… sorry.

Artsgirl – Thank you!

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Thank you again!  I love all of you!

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	17. Once Upon A Dream

Dreaming Of You

Author's Note:  Wow – there's a new chapter already!  This is amazing.  Ok, so it's not _that_ soon.  But it's quicker than usual!  Yay!

**_Part 16 – Once Upon A Dream_**

**Chapter 26**

_You were heaven-sent to me,  
But it wasn't meant to be.  
Now you're just a dream._

_Could we begin again  
Once upon a dream?_

"It isn't a question of whether I _can_ make it," Severus said, meeting Remus's eyes with what Remus would have called pity, if he hadn't known that Severus Snape did not pity people.  "It's a question of whether you think she would want me to."

            And then Remus understood.

            "You want to make her a vampire," he said slowly.  His eyes moved to where Prissy's body had been.  "But – the vampire who sired her is dead."

            "I know," Severus said impassively.  "That doesn't mean it can't be done – it just means it's more difficult."  He looked down at Erin's body.  "I don't think you have much time to decide, Lupin," he added.  "There's only a window of about twenty minutes to turn a bitten victim into a vampire.  I suggest you choose quickly – you or Lianne Black.  You are the only two who might know what this girl would want."

            Instinctively, Remus searched the crowd for Lianne.  He spotted her, backing away from a knot of very upset wolves.  "Li – "  His voice was too rough.  He coughed, and tried again.  "Lianne!"

            She turned, realized who was calling, and sprinted to Remus's side.  "Is she ok?"  Remus hated to kill the hope in Lianne's eyes, but he had no time to be gentle.

            "No."  At the word, Lianne made a sound like a sob going backwards down her throat.  "But Severus says he might – he might be able to – "

            "To make 'er a vampire," Miache finished impatiently.  "And ze pair of you 'ave to decide if she'd vant zhat, or if she'd razzer be dead."

            Lianne paled.  "Can't you save her as a human?"

            "No," Severus said, leaving no question.

            Lianne turned to Remus pleadingly.  "What do you think?"

            Remus could only shake his head.  "I don't know."

            "Well, hurry up and figure it out," Severus told them impatiently.  "I need time to make this potion, if you decide you want it.  Or would you rather just condemn her to death by dithering around without deciding anything?"

            Remus swallowed hard.  "I – "

            "I don't want her to die," Lianne interrupted, possibly not noticing he'd begun to speak.  "Not like this."

            "She's dead already," Remus said quietly.  "Maybe it would be better to let her rest."

            Lianne stared up at him, hurt.  "You told her you love her.  Hera told me you did.  And you just want to let her go?"

            "Better that than to bring her back to a life she hates," Remus said shortly.

            "How could she hate it?" Lianne asked softly.  "She'd have you."

            Remus drew away.  "She doesn't want me.  Even if she thinks she does, in ten years she'll have changed her mind.  And she'll be stuck here, as a vampire.  She doesn't belong here, Lianne.  She belongs back in America."

            "She can't get back to America!" Lianne protested.  "We tried, and it didn't work."

            "That's the point I'm trying to make," Remus said.  "There is nothing for her here, Li.  Would you want to live in a place where everything you know is gone?"

            "In case you've forgotten," Lianne said icily, "I _did_.  My world disappeared, the same as Erin's has.  I didn't have anywhere to go except to England, but you, Sirius, and your friends gave me a new world and another chance at life.  If you could do that for a girl you'd never met, why can't you do the same for the girl you love?"

            "This is entirely different!" Remus snapped.  "You don't know what it's like being a Dark creature.  I wouldn't wish that on anyone."  
            "You don't, either," Lianne said.  "At least, you don't know about being a vampire."  She turned to Miache.  "Is it dreadful?"

            Miache shrugged.  "I 'ave never been anyzhing but a vampire, so I might not be ze one to ask.  But I vould say, no, it is not particularly dreadful."  She smiled, her fangs bared.  "For some reason, vampires are not snubbed, as ozzer Dark creatures are."

            "Because everyone hates you," Remus said bluntly.  "And they're scared of you.  No one dares be rude to a vampire."

            Miache raised an eyebrow.  "You're managing nicely," she commented.

            "If you plan on making a decision in time to have any effect," Severus spoke up, "you might want to do so within the next sixty seconds.  After that, I won't be able to make the potion quickly enough."

            Remus looked at Lianne soberly.  "If it were you," he said, "what would you want her to say?"

            Lianne's gaze fell to Erin's body.  She considered silently for five heartbeats.  Then she met Remus's eyes again.  "Bring her back."

            Remus blinked in surprise.  "You really think so?  I mean, _really_?"

            Lianne nodded.  "If it were me, I'd rather be a vampire than dead.  Would you rather be dead than be a werewolf?"

            Remus thought about it – the transformations, the Wolfsbane, the disgust he met everywhere.  Then he thought about death, and suicide, and murder.  He remembered Lane, who had hated what his people stood for, and Priscilla, who was everything a vampire was expected to be.  And he thought of Alacra, and when he'd learned of her death as he was brought to the vampire's stronghold.

            "Lupin."  Severus actually sounded like he was trying to be gentle – probably a first for him.  "Do I make the potion or don't I?"

            Remus closed his eyes.  "I can't – we can't let her die."  He sighed.  "Make the potion."

            "Good.  Look at me, then, because I'll need your help."

            Remus opened his eyes, confused.  "Is it difficult?  You know I'm hopeless at – "

            "Not with the brewing."  Severus unhooked a black bag from the side of his robes, where it had blended with the material of his clothing, and he removed a knife and a medium sized phial.  "I need blood.  Fill this."

            Remus started to protest, then changed his mind.  "How much does this hold?" he said instead, taking the tools.

            "More than it looks like," Severus told him grimly.  "I hope you're committed to this girl, Lupin, because you're going to be giving her a lot more of yourself than you planned."

            Miache watched with interest as Severus took from his bag another phial about twice as big as the one the wolf had, and then a series of powders.  "Do you alvays carry potion ingredients to revive ze dead?"

            "Only when called on emergency visits to vampire battle grounds," Severus snapped.  "Be quiet and let me work."

Surprisingly, Miache did so.  She moved to gather Priscilla's ashes, but – 

            "Don't touch those!"  Severus raised his head with a violent glare.  She shrugged and drew away again.

            The wolf was busy bleeding into his phial, and Lianne was attempting to help him, which he didn't need, and not to be sick on him, which he really didn't need.  The situation was under control, from what Miache could see, but she didn't like leaving the group of humans.

            Miache didn't often feel guilt, even when she admitted she was at fault, but she felt guilty at that moment.  She hadn't even suspected that Priscilla was anything other than what she appeared to be.  Of course, the princess – she didn't deserve the title "queen" – had also been a Phoenix, but that didn't change the fact that Miache should have at least noticed.

            If she had, the Connor girl might still be human.  Not that Miache disliked being a vampire, but she had known many mortal-born vampires who hadn't been able to cope with the switch.  It had been too traumatic, and they had hated their new existence too much.

            Of course, she – or others like her – had dealt with those vampires.  It had been a mercy to the poor creatures.  So if the Connor girl ended up too affected by the transformation…  Well, it couldn't be reversed.  But she could be dealt with, too.

            "How much do you need to bleed?"  Lianne deliberately stared at Remus's face, his hair, his feet – anywhere but the arm with the cut bleeding away into the phial.  "That's got to be more than enough to fill that thing up."

            "You heard Severus," Remus reminded her.  "It's magical."  He glanced down, grimaced, and looked away again.  "You're right, though – it's a lot."

            "Remus?"  Lianne hesitated.  "Can I ask you something?"

            "About why I changed my mind?"  He smiled bitterly.  "I'd rather you didn't, if you don't mind.  Let's say I love her, and leave it at that."

            "Well, I'm glad you've admitted that, then."  Lianne looked down at her hands.  "She was really miserable, you know.  When she thought you didn't love her."

            Remus nodded.  "I know."  He was starting to look pale – not because of their conversation, Lianne realized, but because of the blood he was losing.

            "Are you sure you're not giving too much blood?" she asked, concerned.  "You don't look too good."

            That got Snape's attention.  He looked up from mixing tiny white flower petals into the concoction in the other phial, glaring intently at the container attached to Remus's arm.  "He's nearly done," Snape pronounced.  "Stop worrying about him."

            "So it's ok to lose that much blood?" Lianne asked in surprise.

            "I don't know."  Snape shrugged indifferently.  "That's how much she needs.  Hopefully it won't take Lupin out in the process."

            Remus cut off Lianne's yelp of horror.  "Done."  He set the phial, now glimmering with liquid red, beside Snape.  That delivered, he sat down heavily, far enough away from the potion in progress that he shouldn't disturb it.  Lianne offered him a section she'd managed to tear from the bottom of her robes, to staunch the bleeding.

            Snape, concentrating all his attention on the potion, poured about half of Remus's donation of blood into the larger phial containing the powdered ingredients.  He stirred it with looked like a stick of incense.  Yes, it _was_ a stick of incense.  Snape lit it, releasing the scent of sandalwood into the room.

            Then he reached over and took a pinch of Prissy's ashes.

            "Vhat are you _doing_?"  Xavier's screech would have been amusingly feminine if it hadn't been for the murderous look in his eyes.  "Don't touch 'er!"

            The vampire prince dove for Snape, but Miache blocked him.  "Leave 'im alone," she said coldly.

            "'E is defiling my sister's remains!" Xavier howled, struggling to get at Snape, who, trusting Miache, was going calmly on with his brewing.

            "'E's doing vhat 'e must in order to lessen ze evil she did," Miache snapped.  "A victim 'as to drink some of 'er sire's blood to become a vampire, doesn't she?"

            "Zhat's not blood," Xavier snapped.  "Zhose are Prizzilla's ashes, and I von't 'ave zhem used like zhat."

            "No?"  Miache raised her eyebrows.  "You'll 'ave to get past me to stop it."

            Xavier stopped moving to consider – and lunged, hoping to catch Miache with her guard down.

            He failed abysmally.  Miache's fist met Xavier's face with the resounding _crack_ of knuckle connecting with cheekbone, and he fell backwards.  The Lady Phoenix conveniently arranged to have her foot right next to his head as he hit the ground, and a well-placed kick ensured that he wouldn't interfere with the potion again.

            "That was… impressive," Lianne said uneasily.

            "Zhat's vun vord for it," Miache agreed, rubbing her hand.  "I might 'ave reconsidered if I'd remembered zhat 'e is so 'ard'eaded."

            "The potion's ready."

            Snape's words ended the awkward, silence-filling conversation.  Miache and Lianne turned to the Potions master, as if drawn by magnets.  He held the larger phial, which now contained the rest of the blood Remus had given, as well as some of Prissy's ashes.

            With no ceremony, his manner capable but distant, Snape raised Erin's head and poured the potion between her lips.  Lianne shuddered, but she didn't look away.  She felt she owed it to Erin to see this through.

            It took the better part of a minute to get whole the potion down Erin's throat.  Lianne suspected Remus didn't breathe the entire time.  She knew she didn't.

            "Well?" Remus asked, as soon as the potion was gone.  "Now what happens?"

            "Now?"  Snape began gathering his potion-making supplies.  "Now we wait to see if it worked.  What did you expect?"

            Remus and Lianne reached an unspoken agreement that someone should keep watch over Erin until she woke.  Despite his cryptic words, Snape was sure of his potion's success, and predicted that it would take effect any time between one hour and six.

            In fact, it was four hours later when something happened.  Lianne was consulting Dumbledore on the Glacialispeculum, so Remus was sitting with Erin in the room where Lianne and Erin had originally been meant to stay.

            Her head moved.

            Remus immediately stopped all motion, even breathing, as he watched Erin for some other sign.

            She groaned.

            He bit his lip, wondering whether to urge her awake.  Snape hadn't said anything beyond "let her rest."  Did that still apply if she was nearly awake?

            The problem was solved for him.  Erin opened her eyes.  She spotted him immediately, since he was sitting directly next to her, and still dazed from sleep, she smiled wholeheartedly to see him there.  Remus, seeing the fangs in her mouth, couldn't bring himself to smile back.

            She noticed this, of course.  "Remus?  Why – "  She stopped, gasping in unexpected pain, as the fangs got in the way of her mouth.  "What – "  The fangs bit into her lip again, and she had to stop, bewilderment plain on her face.

            "Don't use any 'w' words," Remus advised her.  "Or, if you must, pronounce them as v's.  It makes speaking easier."

            Erin opened her mouth – paused – and said, "Vhy?  Vhat happened?"  She shook her head slightly, to clear it.  "Prissy – is she – "

            "She's dead, Erin," Remus said gently.  "Lane killed her.  I'm sorry."

            "Oh."  Erin shuddered a little.  "I trusted her."

            Remus nodded.  "I know.  It's hard when someone you care for betrays you."

            "She said – "  Erin stopped, a stunned expression crossing her face as she began to remember exactly what had happened before she lost consciousness.  Remus thought that he should probably look away – her face was so open in that moment, her thoughts and feelings so exposed – but he couldn't bring himself to do it.  He needed to see her reaction to this – to see if his final decision had been a blessing or a curse.

            Erin didn't say anything, but she reached up to touch her neck.  The wounds where Prissy's teeth had penetrated were still there.  Then she felt her teeth – the ones that were now sharp fangs.  She raised her eyes to meet Remus's.

            "I'm a vampire…"  It wasn't a statement, but it wasn't a question.  It was, if anything, a plea for him to deny it and tell her it wasn't true.

            Remus dropped his gaze.  "I'm sorry.  I tried to help you."

            "I know.  I remember.  You – "  Erin stopped short.  Remus looked up again to see why.  She was staring at him with wonder.  "You said you love me."

            "Yes."  Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  "I didn't realize it until I thought the wolves were going to kill me."  He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what had to come next.  "But I don't know if you should be too happy about it."

            A frown creased Erin's face.  "Not happy?  Wh– "  She winced.  "Vhy not?"

            "Erin, I have to confess something.  I haven't been completely honest with you."  Remus wanted to reach out to touch her hand, but stopped himself.  "You see, the reason I was sent to talk to the wolves wasn't just because I'm a part of the Circle.  I'm only part of the outer Circle, really, not that group you met.  They sent me because I'm a werewolf."

            There was a brief silence.

            "Yes?"  Erin prompted finally.  "And?"

            Remus looked up sharply.  "What do you mean, _and_?" he demanded.  "Aren't you shocked and horrified?"

            "Vell…"  Erin thought a moment, "considering that you've also just told me that I'm now a vampire… no, not really.  I already knew that you're a w- a verewo- "  She grimaced.  "Anyhow, I know already."

            Remus stared.  "Lianne – "

            "No, she didn't have to tell me," Erin cut him off.  "I… I guessed.  I've known for a vhile."

            "And it doesn't bother you?" Remus asked incredulously.

            "It bothers me a lot more that I'm now a vampire," Erin said.  "How did that happen, if Prissy got killed?  Doesn't it take the blood of the sire?"

            Remus hesitated.  "Well… yes.  But Severus made a potion for you, using Priscilla's ashes."

            Erin's face twisted in disgust.  "I drank something with Prissy's _ashes_ in it?  Yuck!"

            "Well, it brought you back."  Remus shrugged, watching her apprehensively.  This was it – now she would either be pleased or angry.  Now she'd decide for herself if being a vampire was better than dying.

            "I guess it did."  Erin smiled weakly.  "Thanks, then."

            "Thanks?  You're glad we brought you back?"

            "As opposed to letting me die?"  Erin stared at him blankly.  "Of course I'm glad."

            "But you're a vampire," Remus reminded her.

            "Yes, I noticed that already," Erin said, giving him a withering look.  "Better than being dead, isn't it?"

            "Is it?"  Remus nodded slightly, to himself.  For now, at least, she thought they'd made the right choice.  But of course, he wouldn't have expected her to be angry about it till later.

            "Remus, what's going on?"  Lianne, hearing voices, entered the room.  Her face lit up.  "Erin!  You're ok!"

            Erin smiled.  "Looks like it."  The smile faded.  "Except for the vampire part."

            "Are you upset about it?"  Lianne shook her head.  "What am I talking about?  Of course you're upset.  Will you be all right?"

            Erin nodded.  "I think so.  Though I'm still a little sick about drinking stuff with Prissy's ashes in it."

            Lianne frowned.  "The part about Remus's blood doesn't bother you, then?"

            "Vhat?"  Erin blinked.

Remus glared at her.  "Li!"

            Lianne winced.  "Oops.  You hadn't told her yet?"

            "I wasn't going to, either," Remus said.

            "Tell me vhat?" Erin said, louder.  She did not look happy.  "I drank your _blood_?"

            Remus sighed in resignation.  "Thank you so much, Li.  Why don't you stay and tell her even more upsetting things before she's been awake an hour?"

            "Sorry…"  Lianne ducked back out hastily.  A muffled argument about whether or not Lianne had unduly distressed Erin could be heard faintly through the door.

            "Vhen did I drink your blood?" Erin asked, not noticing Lianne's exit as she started to panic.  "I don't remember!  Did I hurt you?"

            "No," Remus said soothingly, mentally cursing Lianne for making him tell this.  "Calm down, Erin – come on, calm.  I'm all right, it's you I'm worried about."

            "But your blood!"  Erin reached out and pulled his collar away from his neck.  "You don't have teeth marks – "

            "You didn't bite me!" Remus interrupted, quickly readjusting the collar of his shirt.  One of the vampire men had given it to him, since it was too cold underground to dress as the wolves did.

            "Then vhat happened?" Erin asked, nervously twisting the top of the bed sheet.

            "It was the potion Severus made for you," Remus said quietly.  "It required blood, and I gave mine."

            Erin looked down at her hands, which were paler than they had been before she'd been changed.  "How much blood?"

            "Well…"  Remus hesitated.  "Quite a lot, actually.  I'm not sure exactly how much.  Enough to bring you back."

            "Your blood is in my veins."

            "That's one way to look at it," Remus admitted, getting worried.  "It bothers you?"

            Erin traced the lines on the palm of her left hand.  "Does that mean I belong to you?"

            "Er."  Remus hadn't been prepared for that.  "No, not really.  No."

            "But you saved my life."  Erin looked up at him.  "Thank you.  I'm glad you're the one who did this.  I don't think I'd like it if it vere somevun else, but since it's you – it's ok."

            "Oh."  Remus swallowed hard.  He wasn't sure he was prepared for this conversation.  "That's very flattering, Erin, but I'm sure Lianne – "

            "Don't change the subject."  Erin smiled a little.  "Look, Remus, even though I've never actually said this, I think you know already.  But I'm going to tell you anyvay.  I love you.  And considering that letter experience, I think I can actually say that I did love you before I ever met you."

            Remus was startled to find that he could still laugh, if unsteadily.  "One for the love ballads," he said.  Then he sobered.  "You really don't mind that I'm a werewolf?"

            "If you don't mind that I'm a vampire."  Erin reached up to finger the marks on her neck again.  

            Remus reached out and pulled her hand away.  "Don't do that," he said quietly.  "Erin, you know that it won't be easy, right?  Being a Dark creature.  There will probably come a time when you'll wish we'd let you die."

            "Then vhy didn't you?" Erin asked.  "If you think I'd rather be dead?"

            Remus looked at his hand, still holding hers, while he considered his answer.  It had been one thing to tell Lianne he didn't want to explain.  She didn't need to understand his reasons.  But it was Erin's right to know, if she wanted him to tell her.  And he wanted to get this right.

            "Because," he said finally.  "There's been death today – a lot of stupid, pointless death.  And if I could bring any of them back – Lane, Alacra, the vampire queen, or any of the others who died in the battles outside the council room – I'd want to do it.  Even though they'd be vampires, or werewolves.  They could all feel things just as deeply as humans do.  They were all still people, Dark or not.  And then, something Lianne said made me think – if I'd do it for them, shouldn't I be able to do it for you?"

            He hung his head, suddenly ashamed.  "Maybe I did the wrong thing.  I don't know.  I hope you never think so, though you probably will.  I just knew, overwhelmingly, that I wanted you with me.  I wanted to know that you will be in this world for at least a little longer.  I admit it – I was selfish.  I tried to be noble and self-sacrificing, but at the last second I couldn't manage.  Erin, I need you with me.  Can you forgive me for acting on that?"

            "Remus."  Her voice was warm, though trembling, but he didn't dare look at her face.  Not yet.  "Of course I forgive you – no – there's nothing to forgive.  I love you.  It feels so good to be able to tell you at last.  I'm glad you vanted me here with you – I'm terribly happy about it – and I'd much rather be alive than dead.  I'd rather be undead than dead.  Especially now that I know that you – how you feel."

            Remus met her eyes, calmed for the moment.  She smiled shakily.  "That's supposed to be your cue," she hinted shyly.

            He frowned.  "For what?"

            "Er…"  Erin blushed a little.  "I vas actually hoping you'd kiss me.  You don't have to, really, but I thought the timing might be right.  I'd try to kiss you, but… I'm kind of not up to pouncing yet."

            Remus couldn't help smiling.  "If that's what you want."  She nodded.  "All right, then."

            Feeling a little embarrassed, and not at all sure how to go about kissing a girl who couldn't do much more than lie on her back, Remus got out of his chair and sat beside her on the bed.  After some consideration, he lifted her to a sitting position, supporting her against her pillows with his arm.

            "Comfortable?" he asked, inwardly wincing at how awkward he must sound.

            But Erin smiled contentedly, leaning into his arm.  "Very."

            And when he kissed her, he realized that the way he sounded hadn't mattered very much, after all.

            "You're sure she'll be all right?"

            "Really, Lupin, do you think you've asked often enough?" Severus snapped irritably.  "They've only told you twenty times so far."

            "Ze answer 'as not changed yet, either," Miache said, equally annoyed.  "Your young lady vill be fine crossing the ocean as long as she 'as ze amulet I gave 'er.  It 'olds earth zhat vas enchanted – "

            "To act as a coffin would in allowing her to cross water," Severus interrupted.  "I know.  We all know.  Lupin knows, too, he's just being paranoid."

            "I am being prepared," Remus said coldly.  "Because I want to make sure Erin completes the trip back home safely."

            "Are you talking about me?" Erin asked, interested, as she and Lianne entered the last corridor of the vampires' stronghold.

            "Lupin thinks the crossing will kill you," Severus told her.  "He has no faith in either my potions or the Lady Phoenix's spells."

            "No, I do," Remus protested.  "I just want to make sure."

            Erin grinned.  "I'll be fine, Remus," she assured him.  "Look, I've got my amulet."  She tugged lightly on the chain around her neck.  "And I've got sunscreen on and everything."

            "Not zhat you really need sunscreen yet," Miache said.  "You're still in ze Order of ze Mouse.  You aren't too powerful yet, but you don't 'ave to be concerned wiz sunshine.  'Owever, please let me know vhen your power increases.  You'll know vhen it 'appens."  She surveyed the group of four.  "You're ready to leave?"

            "Vun moment, please."

            The five of them turned around.  Hera stood there, accompanied by the royal guards.

            "Your Majesty."  Miache bowed.  "Vhat is your command?"

            "I vould like to make a request of our messengers."  Hera looked from Lianne to Remus.  "I 'ave not been crowned officially yet, but zhat is only a formality, particularly now zhat ze volf clan 'as disappeared.  So please, bear a message from the Queen of the Cruentes to the leader of your Circle."

            "Um… we'd be honored," Lianne said, when it was clear no one else was going to answer.

            Hera nodded in acknowledgement.  "Tell 'im zhat ze Cruentes recognize Britain's battle, and zhat ve shall be proud to ally ourselves wiz so brave a force."

            "I'll let him know."  When Miache prodded her in the back, Lianne remembered to bow.  "Thank you very much, your Majesty.  Dumbledore will be happy about that."

            Hera smiled.  "I expect so.  Tell 'im I shall be in touch wiz 'im in ozzer vays."  She glanced at the luggage they had around them.  "You are leaving?  Zhen do not let me detain you further.  May your path 'ome be easier zhan ze vun you 'ad vhile 'ere."  She swept regally back into the vampire tribe's sanctuary.

            Erin watched her go, frowning.  "I vonder vhat made her chance her mind.  The other queen didn't vant to help us."

            "Zhat vas before the Ganrou vere known to be Death Eaters," Miache said grimly.  "Our battle wiz zhem is not yet over, but the only vay it can continue is as an aspect of yours."  She smiled  cheerlessly.  "I expect zhat you vill see far more of the vampires and volves in your fights before your battle is done."

            "Lianne!"

            As soon as the group of four got to Dumbledore's house, their point of return from France, Sirius tackled them in an attempt to get at his wife.

            "Li, are you ok?"  Sirius kissed her before she could answer.  When he pulled away, he continued speaking as if he hadn't left off.  "Did they hurt you?"

            "She is probably the most 'ok' of any of us, Black," Severus said acidly.  "Lupin was captured, I was attacked – while out of my mind, as I was for some reason defending your wife – and I'm sure you know what happened to Miss Connor.  Your wife can't even complain of bruises."

            "I was worried," Sirius said defensively.  "Dumbledore didn't see fit to tell me what had happened until about an hour ago."

            "Because you would have come haring out after us," Remus pointed out reasonably.

            "Yes, and I didn't get the chance.  Instead, Snape," Sirius shot him a nasty look, "had to protect Lianne for me."

            "You all sound like I can't take care of myself," Lianne objected.

            "Can you?" Erin asked skeptically.

            "I could if I wanted to," Lianne said indignantly.

            "Which is why you hid behind me in the council room," Severus said sourly.

            "Why don't we sit down to discuss this?" Dumbledore suggested, watching the conversation with amusement.  "I'm sure you four are exhausted."

            As they moved into Dumbledore's living room, he caught Erin's arm.  "Miss Connor, may I speak with you?"

            "They're vaiting for us in there," Erin said.  Then she saw the look in his eyes.  "But they probably von't notice if ve take a few extra minutes."

            Dumbledore nodded somberly.  "Miss Connor, I want to apologize for your… predicament."

            "You mean becoming a vampire."  Erin smiled wryly.  "I don't mind hearing it.  Anyvay, it isn't your fault.  You had nothing to do with it."

            "I allowed you to go," Dumbledore said.  "I shouldn't have done that.  You are, from what I've seen, a very intelligent girl, but you were still a Muggle.  I should have arranged for you to stay elsewhere while Lianne and Remus went alone."

            "Don't vorry about it," Erin said uncomfortably.  "It's done, and thinking about vhat you should have done von't change anything."

            Dumbledore smiled.  "You are a most sensible young lady," he told her.  "You and Remus should get along well."  Erin's eyes widened at this, but he didn't let her interrupt.  "Miss Connor, I know you do not want to hear about this, but I do hold myself responsible for your fate.  If the time should ever come when you are in need – of anything – I give you my word to help you in any way that I can."

            Erin looked at him for a moment.  "I'd say that you don't need to do that," she said finally, "but I don't think you'd make that kind of offer unless you thought the time might come vhen I vould need it.  So I'll just say thank you, and leave it at that."

            "Very wise."  Dumbledore patted her on the shoulder.  "Now why don't we make sure that Sirius and Severus don't blow up the house, hmm?"

            Erin followed him, considering the entire conversation.  It had been somewhat odd.  One phrase in particular stuck in her mind – _you were a Muggle_.  That implied she was no longer one.

            _But I guess I'm not,_ she thought in surprise.  She was a part of this world now.  Maybe not a particularly well-liked part, but she had a place here.

            She entered the living room, and smiled to see Remus's face light up when he spotted her.

            This was a nice world to be in, after all.

Author's Note:  Ok, I know that sounds like the fic's ending, but really it isn't.  This is just the end of a chunk.  Besides, I figured no one really needed another cliffhanger.  A gentle ending once in a while isn't that bad.  Besides, you got a lovely cryptic conversation to entertain you, if you want to muse on what comes next.

Incidentally, this was the last vampire/werewolf part.  For those of you interested, we will now be moving back to Autumn and Hazel.  Interesting things are happening there…

Disclaimer:  Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling.  The various original characters are mine.  The song lyrics are, again, from "Once Upon A Dream" from _Jekyll and Hyde_.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

**Star of Light** – There is in fact more – and in a reasonable time, too.  It isn't candy, though, sorry. ^_^

**Chaser of the full moon** – No cliffhanger this time!  The muse of cliffhangers went on a coffee break.

**Unicorn777** – Thank you!

**Bertie Bott **– Thanks!  I was trying for unpredictable there.  I'm glad I managed.

**Draicana** – Eep!  Looks like the chains worked this time…

**Suzaka** – Actually, there's no reference to X-Men.  At least, nothing intentional.  I've never read any of those comics, so there might be some parallels I don't know about.

**Arella Hallo** – Well… your question was answered in the first few sentences of the chapter.

**Purple-nail-polish-person** – Yeah, Remus probably gets the worst deal of any of the male characters.  As for Draco… well, he's getting a bigger role soon.

**Diva937** – Wow, thanks!  I'm glad you noticed the titles.  Of course, now that that pattern's run its course, I have to be creative again…

**Kalika Aryn** – You know, I guess I did just kill off people in authority.  That didn't occur to me till you said it.  Wow.  I've committed character regicide… or something…

**Ruby Snidget** – Thanks!

**Kairi Yumi** – No cliffhanger this time!

**Skylar** – Thanks!

**Jessica** – IB inconsequential?  Fie upon you!  Don't let the school hear you talking like that… ^_~

**The Nonchalant Frog** – Yep, the other girls are coming soon.  Though it will be a while before they're all together again…

**Kolinshar Jackie-chan Benito** – Thanks!  Although really, I stopped thinking of this as a self-insert a while ago.

**BlackKat** – Wow, two reviews?  I'm honored. ^_^

**Michelle Riddle** – Of course I had to torture Lane.  He was far too idealistic to be permitted to survive.

**Elle DeVarquez** – Thank you!

**Sharem** – Thank you!

**Waterfall** – Severus's future role in the fic is under debate.  Oh, don't worry, he'll be there – I'm just not sure what exactly he'll be doing.

**Phoenix Flight** – Thank you!

Thank you again!  I love you all!

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	18. If I Could Reach You

Dreaming Of You

Author's Note:  Again, I'm sorry this keeps taking so long to post.  I'm on summer break now, though (yay!), so I'll probably be writing faster.  Anyway, this part finally returns to Hazel and Autumn, as promised.

A big thank you to Merry, my beta! *waves*

**_Part 17 – If I Could Reach You_**

**Chapter 27**

_Lost in the darkness  
Silence surrounds you  
Once there was morning  
Now endless night.  
  
_

            "I hate my life."

            "That's cheerful," Autumn said, sitting down at the lunch table in the seat opposite Hazel.  "Anything you hate in particular?"

            Hazel pushed her history textbook across the table, unable to concentrate.  "Everything.  I hate school, I hate my exams, and I _hate_ not knowing where Lianne is."  She sighed.  "Do you think Erin got an answer to that letter we sent yet?"

            Autumn shook her head.  "I have no idea.  I just can't believe that could work.  Just because some guy is playing a joke on Erin doesn't mean he knows anything about Lianne."

            "Well, we'll find out soon, I guess," Hazel said.  She glanced around the courtyard.  "Have you seen Erin today?"

            "Nope.  I had to make up a chemistry quiz before school," Autumn said.  "You haven't seen her?"

            "Library," Hazel explained.  "I haven't been able to study lately.  I thought the atmosphere might help."  She looked down at the tabletop.  "It didn't."

            Autumn looked at Hazel with no small amount of concern.  "Something's wrong, isn't it?  Something else?"

            Hazel pulled her textbook back, then dropped her head on it rather than the filthy tabletop.  "I think I'm losing my mind."

            "You aren't!" Autumn said fiercely.

            "Maybe I am."  Hazel didn't seem disposed to listen.  "Maybe we all are.  This is weird, Autumn.  Really weird.  No one knows anything about Lianne anymore, and we all said it was like she'd never existed.  But what if that's true?  What if she really never did exist?  What if everything we think is happening now is just some mass hallucination?"

            "What if the skies rain blood and drown us all?" Autumn said tartly.  "We aren't crazy.  There's a reasonable explanation for all this.  We just have to be patient, and wait to figure out what it is."

            Hazel shook her head without lifting it from the book.  "Some things can't be explained.  Besides, it would be a rational explanation to decide that we need to turn ourselves in to the nuthouse."

            "Don't talk like that," Autumn ordered impatiently.  "We aren't crazy, ok?"  Hazel didn't react.  "God, where's your cousin when we need her?  She could snap you out of this."

            "I'm not going to snap out of it," Hazel said quietly.  "I've been thinking about this almost constantly – how can I not? – and I don't understand any of this.  I understand insanity.  I don't like it, but I understand it."  She stood abruptly, picking up her history book.  "I need to study.  I'm going to the library."

            "We're supposed to meet Erin," Autumn objected.

            "You can meet her."  Hazel gathered the rest of her belongings.  "Tell her I need to be alone."

            Autumn watched Hazel go, a very unhappy expression on her face.

            It did nothing to lighten her mood when Erin didn't show up, after all.

            Hazel unlocked the door to her house, stepping in and dropping her backpack to the floor of the hall.  "I'm home!"

            "Did you bring food?" Perry, one of her three brothers, asked hopefully.  As a fourteen-year-old, he was perpetually hungry, and he tended to focus on his older sister as a source of food.

            "What, from school?"  Hazel smiled.  "I don't think you'd like what they serve there."

            "Oh.  Ok."  Perry immediately lost interest, retreating to his video games.

            Hazel shook her head as she began to replay the answering machine messages.  No one else ever listened to them.

            _"Hi, sweetie,"_ her mother's voice came from the recording.  _"It looks like I'm not going to get home until late tonight.  You know the traffic from here to Washington – it's rotten.  Why don't you call your father and ask him to bring home a pizza?  Love to all of you!"_  The machine beeped.

            _"Hi, honey,"_ her father's voice said on the second message.  _"I know I said I'd try to be home early today, but an emergency came up at the office – you know how it is.  I doubt I'll be back before midnight.  Call your mom – maybe she can pick up some fast food on the way home.  See you in the morning."_

            After another beep, the third and final message began.  "_Heya, little sis!  You there?"_  Hazel smiled to hear her brother Chiram's voice.  He'd gone away to college as a freshman this year.  She missed having him around.  _"Well, I guess you're still at school now, but I was thinking about you and I wanted to say hi.  Call me when you get a chance.  And don't get so stressed you forget, either.  My love to Perry and Shiro – and Mom and Dad, wherever they are.  Don't let 'em run you ragged.  Talk to you later!"_

            Hazel's smile faded as the message ended.  If Chiram were there, he could cheer her up easily – but he'd gone to New York to study music.  The distance weakened the power he had to make her more optimistic.

            "Are Mom and Dad working late again?"

            Hazel looked up.  Shiro, her twelve-year-old brother, was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.  "Looks like it.  So," she sighed resignedly, "grilled cheese?"

            "We had that last night," Shiro pointed out, following Hazel into the kitchen.  "Can we have cheeseburgers?"

            Hazel looked over her shoulder at her brother, raising her eyebrows.  "And how do you expect us to get these cheeseburgers?"  She began searching the pantry.  "I could try some spaghetti."

            "I don't like spaghetti.  You could drive us to McDonalds," Shiro suggested hopefully.

            "How?  On my bike?"

            "No."  Shiro gave her a scornful glance.  "In your car."

            Hazel stopped, frowning.  "I don't have a car."

            Shiro stared at her.  "Yes, you do.  Grandma paid for most of it as your Christmas and birthday presents, remember?  And Mom said you have to do yard work to pay for your part."

            "No."  Hazel shook her head slowly.  "Shiro, you're getting confused.  Grandma bought that car for _Erin_, not me.  Chiram said he wouldn't need a car at college, and Erin's the next oldest grandchild."

            "What are you talking about?"  Shiro's eyes were blank with confusion.  "Who's Erin?"

            "You know, Erin.  Your cousin."  Hazel went very pale.  "You do remember Erin, don't you?"

            "Is this someone you know from school or something?" Shiro asked, puzzled.  "I don't know any high school kids."

            "Shiro Randel, this is not something to joke about!"  Hazel's voice went a notch higher as it took a hysterical twinge.  "Tell me you remember Erin."  Shiro didn't answer, backing away towards the game room where Perry was.  "_Tell me_!"

            This got Perry's attention.  He stuck his head out of the room, looking angry.  "Be quiet, I can't – "  He stopped, his eyes darting from Hazel to Shiro.  "What – "

            "Perry, you know who Erin is, right?" Hazel interrupted, panicky.  "Erin Connor?  Our cousin?"

            Perry blinked.  "We have a cousin named Erin?  Is she related to Aunt Rosemary?"

            "She's Aunt Rosemary's daughter!" Hazel all but screamed.  "You _know_ that!  Stop trying to be funny – "

            "I'm not trying to be funny!" Perry snapped defensively.  "Aunt Rosie and Uncle Caleb haven't got any kids.  I don't know what you're yelling about, but I wish you'd stop and let me get back to my game."

            Hazel drew away from both her brothers.  "You're teasing me."  Her voice wavered uncertainly.  "Well, I won't let you.  I – I'm calling Erin, at Aunt Rosemary's house.  She'll come here and yell at you, and then you'll be sorry!"

            Hazel fled upstairs, away from the bewildered stares of her brothers, and dialed Erin's number on the phone.  Her Uncle Caleb picked up.  "Connor residence."

            "Uncle Caleb!"  Hazel breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thank goodness!"

            "Hazel?" Caleb asked, concerned.  "Is something wrong?"

            "No – not really.  Just my brothers being idiots," Hazel said, calming slightly.  She'd been silly to believe those boys, really.  They were just playing a stupid joke at an unfortunate time, that was all.  "Is Erin there?"

            "Erin?"

            The bottom dropped out of Hazel's stomach.  "Yes, Erin.  My cousin.  She is there, isn't she?"

            "None of your cousins are here, sweetie," Caleb said.  "The rest of the family is in Georgia.  Are you feeling ok?"

            Hazel stared at the phone.  "You're in on it too?"

            "In on what?"

            Hazel drew a shaky breath.  "This isn't funny.  You tell whoever came up with this that I am not laughing!"

            She slammed the phone down, ignoring her uncle's protests that he knew nothing about it.  They were lying.  They all had to be lying.

            "Oh, please, God," Hazel whispered, "let them be lying."

**Chapter 28**

_If I could reach you  
I'd guide you and teach you  
To walk from the darkness  
Back into the light.  
  
_

            "What are you reading?"

            Hazel looked up from her history book, startled at the voice.  "Harry?"  She looked around, realizing she was within the now-familiar stone walls of Hogwarts – or at least, she reminded herself, the way she dreamt of Hogwarts.   She shook her head a little, to clear it.  "I must have fallen asleep while studying."

            Harry picked up the history book.  "History of the U. S.?  No, wait – "  He looked closer, starting to grin.  "Cliff Notes?  This appears to be the _shortened_ version.  Someone is cheating on her reading."

            Hazel took the book back.  "I don't have time to talk.  I need to study."  Her voice came out harsher than she'd intended.  Harry took a step back.

            "Sorry," he said, holding up his hands apologetically.  "I didn't mean to upset you.  I'll leave."  He started for the door, then stopped.  "_Can_ I leave?"

            "I'm not stopping you," Hazel said, miffed.  "Go, if you don't want to be here."

            "It's not that."  Harry stared at the door thoughtfully.  "It's just that I always start dreaming just as I open this door.  I've never really wandered the school, except for that time I dreamt about almost getting caught in Snape's classroom."

            "Does it matter?" Hazel asked, staring fixedly at a passage about the drafting of the Constitution.

            Harry looked back at her in hurt disbelief.  "Hazel, what is wrong with you?  You've never acted like this before."

            "Well, when your friends start disappearing out of the blue, maybe you'll understand!" Hazel exploded.  "My cousin is gone now – my own cousin!  Do you know what that's like?  No one will even acknowledge that she ever existed!  She is my best friend, and now she's just gone!"

            Harry's eyes were wide.  "This isn't the girl you were talking about before?  Now two people are gone?"

            "That's what I said."  Hazel sniffed, rubbing at the tears that kept forming at the corners of her eyes.

            "Here."  Harry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and reached out, drying her eyes for her.

            Hazel swallowed hard at the touch, warm and comforting.  "Y-you carry a handkerchief?" she asked in a small voice.

            Harry smiled lightly.  "Wizards in training tend to make mistakes that require instant cleaning," he told her.  "More so with the more we learn, strangely enough.  A small piece of fabric can be surprisingly useful.  After last year – "  He stopped.

            Hazel tilted her head to look into his face.  "What happened last year?"

            "A teacher died."  Harry looked away.  "I don't think I want to talk about it."  His hand dropped away from her face as he stepped back.  "You wanted me to go."

            "Well…" Hazel trailed off.  "You didn't think you could get back."

            "I'll figure something out."

            Before Hazel could say anything else, Harry had left.

            Harry got halfway to the Gryffindor Common Room before he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do when he got there.  If, as he'd always assumed, these… _things_ he had with Hazel were dreams, then going into the Common Room wouldn't do any good.  He'd either find himself in bed, asleep, or – or something bad.  Considering what tended to happen in his dreams, Harry was not particularly encouraged by the thought.

            He needed to wake up somehow, Harry realized.  But how did he go about waking himself up from a dream that he was in?

            Or was it even a dream?  Every aspect of sight, sound, and touch remained clear, long past the time he would have forgotten the details of an ordinary dream.

            This wasn't the time for that kind of thinking, Harry told himself sternly.  He was dreaming, and he needed to wake up.

            "Loud noises," he muttered.  "Loud noises wake people up."

            "Actually, I think it's really anything startling."

            Harry spun around.  Hazel stood there, holding her history book to her chest.  She offered a hesitant smile, as if she were unsure of her reception after she'd shouted at him so uncharacteristically.

            "Sudden cold always works for me," she continued shyly.  "When we were little, my brothers woke me up by putting ice cubes against my skin."

            "Sounds unpleasant."  Harry gazed at her for a long moment.  "You followed me."

            Hazel shrugged uncomfortably.  "I didn't know what else to do.  Besides, I didn't think studying in a dream would work.  I'd probably end up thinking that the South won the Civil War and George Washington got shot in Dallas."

            Harry let that pass.  "So you were thinking ice, to wake up?"

            "Well, if you have any ice."  Hazel looked around.  "I don't think there's an ice machine here, though, and I didn't think to bring any with me."

            "Bring any – "  Harry stopped dead.  "You brought that book with you."

            Hazel gave him a strange look.  "Yes…"

            "But we're dreaming.  You fell asleep to get here, right?  How could you bring that with you?"  Harry could feel something on the verge of coming together in his head – but not quite.  He didn't have all of the pieces yet.  Something was missing…

            "It was just here with me."  Hazel stared at Harry.  "Are you ok?"

            "Yes."  Harry shook his head.  "No.  I don't know.  There's something here that I'm not seeing."

            "Something bad."  Hazel didn't phrase it as a question.  "Do you think it's related to my friends?"

            Harry half-smiled.  "Only if they were having crazy dreams, too."

            Hazel didn't laugh.  "You think it could be connected?"

            Harry's eyes snapped to hers.  "You don't mean that they really _have_?"

            "I – "  Hazel stopped, looking over her shoulder.  "Did you hear that?"

            "Hear what?"

            "That."  Hazel turned in a rapid circle, scanning the area around her.  "It sounded like – like my mother.  But she's in Washington…"

            "Hazel?"  Harry stared at her, starting to get worried.  "Hazel, no one's saying anything.  Hazel?"

            "Hazel?"

            "Mom!"  Hazel shot upright in her seat at her desk.  "What are you doing home?  Your message said you wouldn't be here till later."

            Erica Randel smiled affectionately.  "It is later, sweetie.  It's one in the morning.  You fell asleep studying."  She peered down at the book.  "The Constitution, huh?  Well, I can understand the sleeping, then."

            "It's not that bad," Hazel tried to protest.

            "Hush."  Erica tugged the book away from her daughter's hands.  "I think you've studied enough for tonight.  Your brothers seem to think that you're very overtired."

            "My brothers…"  Hazel gasped.  "I never fed them!"

            Erica laughed.  "You talk like they're pets," she scolded, trying not to smile.  "Though I admit, with the amount they eat…"  She shook her head.  "Well, don't worry.  Perry rose to the occasion admirably."

            "Really?"  Hazel raised her eyebrows.

            "I believe he provided cereal and potato chips."  Erica shook her head at this woeful lack of nutrition.  "I'm going to have to teach those two to cook a little.  You've been doing too much."

            "I don't mind," Hazel said quickly.

            "Oh, I know you don't," Erica said.  "But maybe you should."  She patted Hazel's shoulder.  "Your own health has to come first, darling."

            "My health?"  Hazel frowned.  "I'm fine."

            "Yes, of course you are," Erica agreed.  "You're just overdoing it a little, that's all.  I thought those classes you're taking might be too difficult for a junior to handle.  With a little less studying, I'm sure – "

            "But I don't study too much!" Hazel insisted.  "It's just the opposite – I'm not studying enough!"

            "Nonsense," Erica said firmly.  "One can always have too much of a good thing – and that goes doubly for studying."  She stood up, still holding the history book.  "I think I'll just hold on to this for a few days.  Till you've gotten enough rest to think straight."

            "But I am thinking straight," Hazel said, realizing what her mother was driving at.  "Mom, it was them – they're playing a trick on me – "

            "I know, sweetie," Erica said soothingly.  "I know.  They told me all about it."

            "Really?" Hazel asked uncertainly.

            "Of course."  Erica smiled.  "I know your father and I haven't been around much lately, and you've been helping out wonderfully.  But maybe it's time you let us play the parents, hmm?  Then you can find some real friends, without having to resort to imaginary ones."

            "Erin isn't imaginary!"  Hazel drew sharply away from her mother.  "How can you say something like that?  What would Aunt Rosemary think?"

            Erica's eyes flickered down, away from her daughter's, for a moment.  "Please, Hazel, dear.  Rest.  It will be good for you.  In fact, why don't you rest all day tomorrow?"

            Hazel frowned suspiciously.  "I have exams this week.  It's the end of the quarter."

            "Oh, one day won't hurt," Erica said dismissively.  "You and I can go out – "

            "You have to work," Hazel interrupted, getting nervous.  "Besides, it's my history final tomorrow.  I have to go."

            Erica gave her daughter a long look.  "All right, sweetheart.  But no more studying tonight.  Off to sleep with you!"  She gave Hazel a gentle push in the direction of the bed.

            As her mother headed for the door, Hazel stopped.  "Mom?"

            "Yes, Hazel?"  Erica looked back.

            Hazel bit her lip a moment.  "You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"

            "Oh, honey, no!"  Erica hurried back to take Hazel's hands in hers.  "No, of course not.  You're just overtired and overworked, from that school of yours.  They work you kids too hard, that's all.  You just remember that you have a life outside of school, and I'm sure you'll be fine.  Everything will feel better in the morning.  You'll see."  She kissed Hazel's cheek.  "Now, bed.  Goodnight, love."

            "Goodnight," Hazel echoed as Erica turned out the lights before leaving.

            She didn't dream of Harry again that night, which was probably a good thing.  She didn't know what she'd say.

**Chapter 29**

_Deep in your silence  
Please try to hear me  
I'll keep you near me  
Till night passes by._

            "Draco Malfoy, you are sulking."

            Draco didn't have to turn around to know who had said that.  "I thought we agreed to leave each other alone, Nott."

            "Except in cases of emergency."  A pale hand grasped Draco's shoulder and turned him to face the speaker.  "This would be an emergency."

            Draco found himself staring into silver eyes strangely like his own.  "What do you want now, Tabitha?"

            Tabitha Nott, the female Slytherin prefect for the sixth years, crossed her arms.  "Blaise Zabini landed himself in the clinic.  Snape sent me to get you."

            Draco grimaced.  "Why do I have to handle it?"

            "_You_ don't," Tabitha told him.  "We both do.  He's going to be out for a week, and we're in charge of seeing to it that he learns everything."

            "A week?"  Draco raised an eyebrow.  "What did he do, jump off a tower?"

            Tabitha allowed herself a small smirk.  "He hit on Terry Boot."

            "Boot… she's a Hufflepuff?  The fat one?" Draco asked, thinking back.

            "_He_ is a Ravenclaw," Tabitha corrected briskly.  "The boy with the trench coat."

            Draco shuddered.  "Muggle lover."

            "Oh, I don't know," Tabitha said musingly.  "I think he's pretty sexy.  All that leather…"  She shook her head.  "Anyway, Boot took exception to Zabini's suggestions, and those Ravenclaws always have the nastiest curses."

            "What did he do?" Draco said with mild interest.  He'd always suspected Blaise had some interesting tendencies, and he was not pleased that the boy had been permitted to stay in the regular dormitories.  He hoped the curse was something awful.

            Tabitha shrugged indifferently.  "I suppose we'll see, won't we?"  She headed for the hospital wing.

            Draco hurried to follow, cursing her for making him appear to tag along like a subordinate.  No non-Slytherin would have noticed, but the inner workings of Slytherin House were very delicate.  Slytherins seemed to stick together – and against outside forces, they did.  But among themselves, the House had divided into two very hostile factions.  Draco was actually starting to suspect that Dumbledore and Snape, at least, knew about it.  Why else choose the two leaders of the rival groups as the two prefects?

            If Draco was the understood head of the anti-Muggle Purebloods, Tabitha led the group that opposed him.  Other Houses did not often acknowledge their existence, if indeed other Houses knew about them.  But Muggleborns did on occasion get Sorted into Slytherin – and it was under Tabitha's leadership that they fell.

            It was ironic, Draco reflected, that Tabitha Nott and he, Draco Malfoy, should each have become leaders.  Or perhaps the phrase he wanted was "poetic justice."  No one had ever said anything directly, but Draco was all but certain that Tabitha was his third cousin.

            Lucius had had a second cousin, Cyril, who had died under… odd… circumstances.  Cyril was never spoken of – _ever_ – but from the bits and pieces Draco had gathered, he'd run off with an unsuitable woman.  Draco knew that Miriam Nott, Tabitha's mother, had been disinherited by her family long before the rise of the Dark Lord, and she'd refused to support Voldemort when the rest of the Nott family had done so.  For all Draco knew, Cyril and Miriam could have eloped.  He'd never seen any evidence to contradict that theory.  And Tabitha certainly had enough Malfoy-like characteristics to prove him right.

            "Malfoy, Nott, there you are."  Snape, waiting outside the hospital wing, spotted the two of them as they approached.  "Zabini just regained consciousness.  You can work out a tutoring schedule."

            "But professor, my schedule is full already," Draco protested, his voice dangerously approaching a whine.

            Snape glared, rather than deducting points, as he would have had anyone else complained.  "You agreed to accept the responsibilities of a prefect.  If it inconveniences you that much, you can arrange for other students from your year to be the tutors.  Just be certain Zabini gets his information."  He frowned at them.  "Well, what are you waiting for?  Go on."

            "Yes, professor."  Draco and Tabitha went past the Slytherin House Head to go into the hospital wing.

            Madam Pomfrey saw them immediately.  "Well, it's about time," she said huffily.  "If you really must disturb my patients, you might at least do it all at one time, instead of popping in and out.  Zabini's back through here."

            She led the way.  Draco raised an eyebrow, impressed – if Blaise was being sequestered away from the rest of the patients, that curse must have been pretty bad.  Or pretty embarrassing.  Draco hoped it was both.

            But when he caught sight of Blaise, Draco was rather disappointed.  No fangs, no boils, nothing.  The blonde boy was just lying on his side on the cot, scowling unhappily.

            "Here you are," Madam Pomfrey said briskly.  "Now, just a few minutes, mind.  I have to get started on fixing poor Mr. Zabini's condition."  She bustled back out to the front of the clinic.

            "So, you made a move on Boot?" Draco said mockingly, as soon as the witch moved out of earshot.  "Pretty stupid, if you ask me."

            "Well, I didn't."  Blaise sniffed.  "Don't you think I have enough problems, without you making fun of me?"

            "What problems?" Draco scoffed.  "There's nothing – "  He stopped as Tabitha began snickering.  "What?"

            Tabitha gestured at Blaise.  "Behind him," she said, fighting to keep her face straight.

            Frowning, Draco walked around Blaise to get a better look – and nearly fell over laughing.  He had to give Boot credit – those Ravenclaws really knew how to pick their curses.  A veritable garden of pansies was blossoming cheerily from Blaise's arse, growing through the cloth from where they'd rooted under his skin.

            "Thanks, Draco," Blaise said bitterly over his shoulder.  "Laugh at me in my hour of need.  Really classy of you."

            "Oh, don't mind him, Blaise," Tabitha said, her words oozing with saccharine sweetness.  "I can do everything for you."

            That got Draco under control.  In the divisions of Slytherin House, Blaise fell under Draco's jurisdiction.  It was an unspoken rule that you cared for your own.  Draco couldn't let Tabitha watch over Blaise.

            "I'm fine," Draco said coldly.  "You needn't trouble yourself on my account, Nott."

            "I thought it was on _my_ account," Blaise said loudly.  "Some of us have tutoring to schedule, if you don't mind."

            "Fine."  Draco draped himself lazily over a chair.  "It had better be someone bright, considering your intellect."

            "That leaves out Crabbe and Goyle, then," Tabitha said.  "And poor dear Pansy – she's still struggling in that _difficult_ Care of Magical Creatures class, isn't she?"  Her smile all but dripped sincere concern.  "How about Tracey Davis?  She and Blaise take Illusions together, don't they?"

            "I wouldn't dream of troubling her," Draco replied smoothly.  "I'm sure she has her hands full, seeing to that Hufflepuff boy of hers.  I think a better choice would be Asin Greengrass.  If you recall, she also takes Illusions – and I believe her marks were somewhat higher than Davis's.  Such a pity when one's schoolwork suffers, isn't it?"

            Draco ignored Blaise's sigh of discontent.  This conversation was important – the winner would be one up on the other, and that would be noted in the Slytherin Common Room when they returned.  If Tabitha succeeded in installing one of her crowd as Blaise's tutor, Draco would lose face considerably – and considering the newly charged situation coming about as Voldemort sought out allies in Slytherin-friendly families, losing face could be extremely dangerous.

            "Oh, Asin?"  Tabitha had a look of feigned surprise.  "She's in our year?  Yes, I keep forgetting – such a tiny thing, isn't she?  It's no wonder she can't keep up with the rest of us academically – she can barely keep up physically.  No, it simply won't do for us to saddle poor Asin with Blaise.  I'm sure she'd never forgive us."

            "I'm sure," Draco said dryly.  "And of course you can't mean to suggest Edmund Rookwood?  He's barely in any of Blaise's classes."

            "No, never," Tabitha said sweetly.  Draco wondered what she would say now that she'd run out of intelligent sixth-year followers to suggest.  "I was thinking that perhaps it might be better to request a Ravenclaw as a tutor.  After all, it was one of their own that cursed poor Blaise."

            "I don't want one of them near me!" Blaise yelped, ignored.

            "Perhaps," Draco said cautiously.  It wasn't that he didn't want to go against Tabitha, exactly – he could take her on, he could at any time – it was that it would be easier to postpone the confrontation temporarily.  "Boot is out of the question, of course."  He racked his brains for names of suitable Ravenclaws.  "Su Li might possibly – "

            "Oh, you know Su," Tabitha interrupted breezily.  "Always busy writing some epic tragedy or other.  No, I'd suggest Brocklehurst.  She's quite bright, and she's in Illusions with Blaise."

            "Not her!" Blaise objected.  "She has bizarre hair!"

            And Draco realized who Tabitha was talking about.  "Mandy Brocklehurst."  He nodded slowly, visualizing the girl some called Princess Charming.  Considering that she was an expert in charms in general, cosmetic charms in particular, the label fit.  This year, she'd decided that purple would be a good color for hair, after last year's orange and green.

            Mandy was a strange girl, no doubt about that, but she was also affiliated with no House other than Ravenclaw.  From what Draco had heard, she kept herself neutral so she could sell hair charms to the girls in all the Houses, though no one eve wore anything quite as extreme as she did.  Draco nodded again.  "Yes, I think Brocklehurst will do just fine."

            Tabitha smiled.  "Isn't that nice, then?  It's all worked out.  I'll let Professor Snape know.  You may inform dear Mandy of her new duties, and find out what times are good for her."

            "What about what's good for me?" Blaise demanded.

            "You're in the hospital wing, dear," Tabitha said sweetly.  "What else do you have to do?"  She strode out, moving far more purposely than any girl so delicate had the right to.  Draco put it down to her Malfoy heritage.

            "So, Draco," Blaise said, once Tabitha was gone, "since you're going to be near Ravenclaw and all, I don't suppose you could ask Terry – "

            Draco left without listening to the rest of Blaise's request.  "Nutter," he grumbled, shuddering.  He headed for the Astronomy Tower, where the Ravenclaw Common Room was located.  That was meant to be a secret, of course, but it was pretty obvious, once you thought about it.  The area around the Astronomy Towers was where all the strangest people hung out… and Ravenclaw had quite the reputation as the home of the freaks.  It wasn't surprising Blaise had picked Boot as a possible romance, considering the House.  If the Ravenclaws' minds were any more open, all the facts inside would tip out.

            Fortunately for Draco, he caught a girl down the hallway from the Common Room.  "Hey – "  What was her name?  "Hey, you!"

            She turned around and managed to look down her nose at him, despite being shorter than him.  "What do you want?"

            _Oh, great,_ Draco thought in disgust.  _She would be anti-Slytherin._  His lip curled into his trademark sneer as he realized he addressed the seventh year Ravenclaw Seeker.  "I want to talk to Brocklehurst.  Fetch her."

            The girl – Chang, wasn't it? – sniffed in disapproval.  "Why?  Do you want a hair charm?"  She eyed his pale blonde hair.  "That does look bleached."

            "My hair is entirely natural!" Draco snapped indignantly.  "This concerns tutoring."

            Chang looked extremely dubious, but she went onward.  After a moment, Brocklehurst came out, purple hair bright against the stone walls of the castle.  "Cho says you want to be tutored?" she asked by way of greeting, leaning against the wall and stretching her feet out in front of her.

            "Not me," Draco said, "Blaise Zabini.  He's in the hospital wing – "

            "I heard."  Brocklehurst grinned.  "Terry told me.  Pansy-arsed git, eh?  After what he tried, he had it coming."

            Draco raised an eyebrow.  "And here I thought Ravenclaws were the most disgustingly tolerant people it was possible to come across."

            "Sure we are," Brocklehurst said cheerfully.  "He can be gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide if he likes, it's no concern of ours.  When he grabs Terry's bum and tries to snog him in the middle of the hallway after repeated rejections, that's when we have problems."

            Draco refrained from making a face at that.  Blaise always had lacked Slytherin subtlety.  "Well, Zabini is going to be laid up in the Infirmary for the next week," he told her.  "Nott and I think that you are the ideal person to tutor him in the class work he'll be missing."

            "Tutor Zabini?" Brocklehurst repeated thoughtfully.  "It's a possibility.  What's in it for me?"

            "Excuse me?"  Draco couldn't believe he'd heard that right.

            "What do I get out of it?" Brocklehurst said patiently.  "I'm not going to spend my time on a dolt from another House for my health.  What have you got that I want?"

            Draco considered it.  It had never occurred to him that a Ravenclaw would have no reason to obey his orders without question.  His own Housemates always jumped to do his bidding.  What could he offer Mandy Brocklehurst to entice her to do the same?  Not a pre-written essay or the answers to her homework, not for a Ravenclaw…

            "Tell you what," Brocklehurst interrupted his thoughts, "you can buy me some chocolate from Honeydukes.  Straight chocolate, mind, no spells attached.  I'm partial to the dark flavors, with caramel in them.  I'll charge you four bars an hour.  Split the cost with Nott.  The pair of you can afford it."

            "Four's too many," Draco scoffed.  "One an hour."

            "Two," Brocklehurst countered.  "Three for time on Care of Magical Creatures, since I'm not in that class.  And if he injures me, we can renegotiate for some bonuses in licorice."

            Draco nodded solemnly.  "Done.  You'll get your pay next Hogsmeade weekend."

            "Good."  Brocklehurst smiled, pleased with the transaction.  "I'm free every evening except Thursday from seven to ten.  Thursday I'll come during lunch.  Arrange for Zabini to have his books, quill, and parchment with him, and I'll bring his work."

            "He'll have them," Draco told her.  "And he'll be expecting you."

            Brocklehurst took her leave then, walking back down to the entrance to her Common Room.  Draco headed back towards Slytherin, to tell Tabitha it was settled.  On the way, he ran into one of the younger Slytherins, Baddock.

            "Hi, Draco," the boy said, breathing hard.  He'd literally been running.  "I've been looking for you."

            "And you wanted…?"  Draco raised a haughty eyebrow.

            "Pansy Parkinson sent me," Baddock said, catching his breath.  "She says you've got an owl, and you'd better go pick the message up from the owlery now if you don't want to get it during breakfast tomorrow."

            Draco nodded curtly.  "Tell her you've let me know."  He turned and went in the opposite direction, thinking hard.  An owl – that meant his parents.  His grandmother preferred ravens, and his Aunt Galiana was spending a year in Japan – too far away for an owl.  If Pansy thought he wouldn't want it at breakfast, that meant it was from his father, and was probably not good news.  Maybe it was about those Americans.  Dumbledore and the American headmistress had arranged some sort of meeting between the two groups for this week.  Draco wasn't sure exactly when.

            _I should probably try to find out,_ he decided.  That would tell him how long he had to come up with a good excuse for why he wouldn't have a partner from America, without revealing that he'd been talking to a Muggle.  _Maybe I could claim I'd been faking conversations?_ he mused.  _That might sound believable.  The whole school knows how much against this stupid class I am._  He'd have to perfect that idea a bit more, but it was certainly an option.

            He reached the owlery, and two birds swooped over to him at once.  Srosh, his own owl, landed on Draco's shoulder, but the more sedate eagle owl chose a perch facing the boy.  Draco nodded respectfully to Muut, the Malfoy family owl, as he removed the roll of parchment from the owl's leg.

            He scanned the message.  It was from his father, as he'd expected.  He read,

Draco – 

            You will be on your best behavior for the remainder of the school year.  Important events are taking place.  Stay out of the Witness's way, and be grateful you were not shipped off to Durmstrang like the Elliot girl.  Be sure to impress the Witness if she communicates with you – through her opportunities lie open.

  – _Lucius_

            Draco frowned down at the letter.  It was typical of Lucius – issue only instructions, neglecting to mention the vital point.

            "Who the hell is the Witness?"

**Chapter 30**

_I will find the answer  
I'll never desert you  
I promise you this  
Till the day that I die._

            "So where exactly are you driving?"  Autumn glanced at Hazel's hands, clenched so tightly around the steering wheel that her knuckles were white.  "You do actually know how to drive, right?"

            "Yes," Hazel said tersely in her intense concentration, her eyes never flickering from the road.  "We're going to look for Erin and Lianne."

            "I gathered that," Autumn said.  "Are you sure you don't want to do this after school?  Maybe on bikes?"

            "I am a perfectly competent driver," Hazel told the younger girl.  "I'm just – you know, nervous.  I've never cut school before."

            "Like I said, will half a day make that much of a difference?" Autumn asked reasonably.

            "Yes."  Hazel took a deep breath.  "Look, Autumn – I have to know.  Either they really disappeared, and they're in a lot of trouble somewhere waiting for us, or else – "

            "We aren't crazy!" Autumn said fiercely.  "How many times will you make me say it?"

            "I want to believe that," Hazel said.  "I really do.  But I don't know if I can anymore."  She turned down a final street, approaching a several story parking garage.  "We're here."

            "The airport?"  Autumn gaped out the window at the building across from the garage.  "You've got to be kidding."

            "No, I thought about this," Hazel said earnestly, searching for a place to park.  "We just have to ask if either girl came through at any time.  Our excuse will have to be that they ran away."

            "You don't know that," Autumn objected.  "They were probably kidnapped!"

            Hazel shuddered.  "That seems likely," she admitted.  "But that's a lot more serious than a pair of runaways.  The police would have to get involved, and with our current record, they wouldn't believe us either.  We have to find something to prove the girls existed, and this is the best place I could think of to look."  She pulled into an open space.

            "Fine."  Autumn sighed, unfastening her seatbelt.  "Maybe there's an information desk we can ask."

            As it turned out, there was.  Unfortunately, the harassed young man behind it was unable to be particularly helpful.

            "Look, I'm really sorry about your friends," he said, "but unless you can give me a flight number, or at least a date and destination, I can't do much.  Why don't you try the bus station?  After all, there aren't many teenagers with enough money to buy plane tickets."

            "Thanks anyway," Hazel said, sighing.

            "Can we still look around?" Autumn wanted to know.

            "I don't see why not," the man said, frowning.  "I'm not sure what you think you'll find, but it can't hurt anything."

            "Good.  So," Autumn said to Hazel as they walked deeper into the airport, "this was _your_ brilliant plan.  Where do you suggest we look?"

            "I thought we could ask the security guards," Hazel said.  "Maybe they'll let us look at the security camera tapes."

            "Because of course airport security regularly lets teenage girls see those," Autumn remarked scathingly.  Hazel wilted.  "No, don't – look, I didn't mean it like that.  It's the best idea we've got, isn't it?"

            "I guess."  The slight enthusiasm for the search that Hazel had had was gone.  "Why don't we head for the security check?"

            "That's a great idea!" Autumn said brightly, trying to cheer Hazel up.  "Don't worry – I'm sure we'll find them in no time."

            Hazel nodded, though her depression was not lessened.  "Should we find a map, then?"

            "Got some."  Autumn held two pamphlets up.  "I grabbed them from the information desk.  This place is huge."

            "Wonderful."  Hazel took one and unfolded it.  "We'll never get through this whole place on our own."

            "We could split up," Autumn said.  "Why don't we meet at the food court in an hour?"

            "Where in the food court?" Hazel asked anxiously.  "We've already lost two people – neither of us should risk going missing, as well."

            "Good point."  Autumn studied the map.  "How about the bookshop?  It's right across from the food court, and it probably won't be as crowded."

            "Ok."  Hazel glanced at her watch.  "We'll meet at the bookshop by the food court at 9:30."

            "See you then."  Autumn headed in one direction, leaving Hazel the other way.  She inched through the crowds of people, apologizing profusely whenever she bumped into someone.  No one took any notice of her.  Eventually, she reached a security check.

            "Excuse me, sir," Hazel tried to say to the security guard.  It came out in a whisper.  She swallowed, and tried again.  "Excuse me."

            He looked up at her.  "You have to go through the line, miss," he told her, not unkindly.  "Right there, through those gates."

            "No, sir, I wanted to ask you something."  Hazel stared at the ground, wishing she and Autumn were still together.  She hated doing this alone.  _But what about Erin?_ she reminded herself.  _Erin's probably just as alone as me – maybe more._  Steeling herself, she continued.  "My cousin and her friend ran away, and we think they might've come here.  To get on a plane."  She glanced up hesitantly, to see the guard's reaction.

            He looked concerned.  "That's not too good," he said.  "When did they come through?"

            "My cousin yesterday, her friend a few days before," Hazel answered.

            The guard's eyebrows drew together.  "And you're only looking for them now?"

            "No one realized they were gone," Hazel said, thinking unhappily about the truth of that statement.  "We aren't even sure they took a plane.  But I was hoping maybe you might remember if you saw them?"

            The guard frowned.  "Well, I'd have to know what they looked like, first," he pointed out logically.  "Do you have a picture?"

            Hazel hesitated.  She and Autumn had both scoured their houses for photos, but every picture containing either Erin or Lianne had somehow disappeared.  "I didn't think to bring one," she said finally.

            "Then come back when you've got one," the guard told her.  "I'll be glad to help you.  And bring your parents."  A thought struck him, that Hazel had been hoping wouldn't occur to him till she'd gone.  "Say – shouldn't you be in school?"

            "My cousin's more important, sir," Hazel said, as politely as she could.  The guard didn't look convinced.  "I-I should go now, sir," she said quickly.  "My friend – my family, too – will be worried."  She turned and fled.

            Autumn wandered aimlessly around the airport, not entirely sure what it was she was supposed to be doing.  She'd realized as soon as she'd addressed a security guard that this method of searching would be useless without some sort of picture of Erin and Lianne.  She'd tried drawing the girls, but there was a reason she didn't take art classes.

            _Maybe if I asked about girls who had come through the airport unaccompanied?_ she wondered.  But no – it was very unlikely that the girls had been alone.  She doubted more and more that her friends had left of their own free will, which would mean that another person would have gone with each of them, making that method of searching pointless.

            Autumn sighed.  "This is hopeless," she muttered.  She didn't want to voice that opinion around Hazel, lest the other girl panic as she kept threatening to do, but it was what she was starting to think.  There just didn't seem to be any way of getting in contact with her friends.  She had no idea where they could be, who could have persuaded – or forced – them to leave.  Or why everyone she met refused to acknowledge the girls' existence.

            Life was getting seriously frightening from where Autumn was standing.  She had no control over what was going on – and she was always in control.  She didn't like not knowing what was happening, or why nothing made sense.  She depended on her logic above all else, and she prided herself on the reasoning skills that so many other people seemed to lack.  But in this situation, none of it could help her.  There was no logic to the events that were now controlling her life.

            _No,_ Autumn told herself resolutely.  _That's not true.  There is logic somewhere – there has to be.  I just can't see it._

            She clung to that thought, taking comfort in the idea that it did make sense, somehow.  It was easier to believe that she just didn't understand, than it was to think that life might truly be a chaotic mess with neither rhyme nor reason.

            Autumn caught sight of a clock as she passed the list of arriving and departing flights.  It was 9:20.  She should probably start heading back towards the bookshop.  She didn't want Hazel to start worrying that she, too, had gone missing.

              As she reversed directions, her cell phone rang.  Autumn grimaced as she took it out of her pocket, figuring it was the school administrators, demanding to know why she wasn't in class where she was supposed to be.  "Hello?"

            "Bloody hell.  Don't you ever give up?"

            Autumn started, then glared at the phone.  "Don't you?  And here I thought you were done talking to me."

            "I would be, if you'd stop calling me."

            "You started it," Autumn said sullenly.  "You called me first.  Can't you leave me alone for a while?  I have somewhere to be."

            "School, I should hope," he said virtuously.  "Though with your standards, I suppose – "

            Autumn clicked the phone off.  She then went on to ensure he couldn't pester her again by shutting down the phone's power.  She frowned briefly – she didn't remember turning it on.  She shrugged, figuring she must have done it on reflex.

            "Oh, _there_ you are!"

            "Huh?"  Autumn froze as a hand closed on her arm.  She turned around to see an elderly lady, smiling cheerfully.  "What do you want?"

            "It's time to leave, silly," the lady scolded gently.  "You shouldn't wander off like that – you might have gotten left behind."

            Autumn stared at her.  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

            "We're leaving in just a few minutes, dear," the lady explained, as if it should have been obvious.  "And I know you wouldn't want to miss this trip."  She tugged firmly on Autumn's arm, trying to lead her away.  "Come on, sweetie, your friends are waiting for you."

            Autumn paled.  "My friends?  You know where they are?"

            "Of course."  The woman smiled brightly.  "I suppose you were looking for them?"

            "Take me to them!" Autumn ordered urgently.  "Now!"

            "Easy there, darling!"  The lady had the audacity to laugh.  Autumn couldn't believe how calm she was being.  "Come along.  You'll see them soon."

            The old lady couldn't lead fast enough for Autumn, smiling indulgently as the girl tried to rush ahead.  Autumn was furious at the woman's callousness.  How dare she ridicule Lianne and Erin's plight?

            "Here we are," the lady said merrily, opening a door marked "authorized personnel only."  "I love that sign – such a good joke, don't you think?  Considering what we know is really up here."

            Autumn didn't answer, hurrying past the woman and up the staircase that was immediately through the door.  But when she reached the room at the top, she stopped so sharply that the lady bumped into her.

            "Whoops!"  The lady giggled, as if it were all great fun.  "Well, don't just stand there, silly!  Join a group."

            Autumn stared around the room.  The groups the lady referred to were gathered in circles, each person reaching in to the center of the circle with one hand.  Most of the people were teenagers or younger, though there was at least one adult in every group.  How many groups there were, Autumn had no idea.  There were so many people in each that each group blocked out the others.  She could only see five from where she was standing, but the noise level in the room bespoke many more.

            _I'm starting to get a really bad feeling about this,_ Autumn thought.  She would have edged back towards the door, as the stupidity of what she had done hit her, but the lady had taken her arm again and was steering her over to the nearest group.

            "Make room now," the woman instructed, as the teenagers squeezed together.  "We don't want anyone left behind."

            "But – " Autumn tried to begin.

            "Nope, no more trips outside," the lady chided.  "We almost missed you the first time.  Just think what you parents would say if you got lost here.  Now be a good girl and grab hold of the ring, ok?"

            Autumn looked in the center of the circle, where the lady pointed.  The other people in the group were all hanging on to a large plastic hula-hoop with one hand.  "But I'm – "

            "Nervous?" the lady interrupted.  "Well, only natural.  Here."  She seized Autumn's hand and fastened it to the hoop beside her own.  "I'll stick right by you.  Don't worry."  She glanced up at a clock on the wall.  "Oh, look – here we go!"

            The people in the room had started a countdown, though Autumn had no idea what they were counting to.  They were at fifteen – ten – five, four, three… two… one…

            Something snatched Autumn, dragging her forward.  She screamed, but the sound was left behind.  It was horrible, as if she were being forced to move faster than the human body was ever meant to go.  She'd thought she'd been scared at other points in her life, but those were nothing compared to this.  She was terrified.

            At last, the trip came to an end.  Autumn crumpled to the floor, practically in hysterical tears.  Everyone looked at her in surprise.

            "Are you all right, dear?" the old lady asked worriedly.  "Haven't you ever used a Portkey before?"

            "A _what_?"  Autumn looked up at the lady in disbelief – and in the process, noticed her new surroundings.  "_Where am I?_"

Author's Note:  Two cliffhangers, two situations… I think that may be a personal record. ^_^  Well, I did have to make up for the last part.

Disclaimer:  Potter and Company belong to J. K. Rowling.  The song lyrics are from "Lost in the Darkness" from _Jekyll and Hyde _by Frank Wildhorn and Leslie Bricusse.  The quote "gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide" is from _Good Omens_ by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

**Arella Hallo** – Well… this wasn't exactly a timely fashion.  Sorry.  Was your memory jogged anyway?

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**Jessica** – Thank you!

**Waterfall** – Snape isn't a big part of this chapter, sadly, but he was mentioned.  He has to continue to be there, though – I can't leave him out!

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**Lizzy** – Yes, Erin and Lianne will still be around, even with the shift in focus.  I can't forget them – they're half my plot!

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**Diva937** – No, the public probably won't be too thrilled, but I can't see a wolf and a vampire particularly caring.

**CG Anna Marie **– Well, I had some other reasons for making Erin a vampire, but the age thing was definitely a bonus.

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**Melena Marquis** – You totally made Lianne faint.  Kids?  ^.^''  Maybe.  And that particular secret of Draco's should be revealed pretty soon.

**Tera Earth** – Yep, Hazel and Autumn are definitely in for a shock.  Should be most entertaining.  Heh.

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**Sarah** – No, that wasn't exactly an ending.  It was the end of the vampire-werewolf battle subplot.  Although characters, issues, and consequences may resurface…

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**San-san** – The title is from "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" in _The Phantom of the Opera_.  "Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could."

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Thank you again!

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	19. Thin Air

Dreaming Of You

Author's Note – As soon as the OotP book comes out, this story is immediately going to shift into an alternate universe, starting at the end of book 4.  The events in book 5 are not going to affect this story in the slightest.  Just wanted that cleared up.

On a more cheerful note, this chapter is out quickly!  Yay!

Thank you to my beta, Merry! *waves*

****

****

**_Part 18 – Thin Air_**

_So I flew around the moon three times and caught a falling star  
And came into this world of mimes to live just as you are  
But all I felt was pain here, and one thing that held true  
If you did not believe in me, then I won't believe in you.**  
  
**_****

**Chapter 31**

            "So does anyone have any idea who this 'Witness' person could be?"  Draco paced in front of the group gathered in the sixth year boys' dormitory.  Technically, Pansy and Asin weren't allowed in there – especially not with the door shut and locked – but in the Slytherin dorms, no one was likely to comment too much.

            "I thought you were going to tell us," Pansy complained.  "Why do we have to be here if you don't know anything?"

            "We're pooling our knowledge," Draco snapped.  "For the good of the group."

            "The good of the group?" Asin echoed incredulously, laughing.  "Of course we pool knowledge for the good of the group – when _you_ need to know something.  I've yet to catch you telling us anything when you know and we don't."

            Draco gave Asin a sharp look.  "Are you saying that you know something about the Witness?"

            "I might."  Asin giggled, glancing coyly at Draco.  "What will you give me if I tell you?"

            "If you don't, Crabbe here will give you a fist to the head," Draco said shortly.  At the sound of his name, Crabbe straightened importantly.  "And don't try reaching for that wand, Greengrass," he added, flicking his own wand so it aimed at her when she made a casual movement towards her pocket.  "Don't think I won't curse you to find this out.  If someone's going to be watching me, I want to know who she is."

            "I bet you do."  Asin smiled flirtatiously.

            Draco scowled.  Why had Noleta Elliot had to transfer to Durmstrang?  She'd always been able to keep Asin in line, even if she was a year younger.  "Crabbe – "

            "Oh, you really aren't any fun."  Asin pouted.  "All right.  Mum sent me details.  There's going to be someone here at Hogwarts working for – "  She coughed discreetly, knowing better than to even go so far as to use one of Voldemort's false names.  No one wanted to attract Dumbledore's attention to the Slytherin dorms.  "She's just a watcher, though – she's not allowed to actually act against anyone.  With two Hogwarts agents lost already in the past six years…"  Asin shook her head expressively.

            "But you haven't said who she is," Pansy said crossly.  "What good is any of that if we don't know who this girl is?"

            "Do you think Mum would put that sort of thing in a letter?" Asin asked, laughing derisively at the other girl.  "She's not that stupid!  She was taking an awful risk telling me as much as she did, even if it was all in code.  I haven't any idea who this Witness is.  I don't even know if she's here yet."

            "Are you quite sure that's all you know?"  Draco gazed at Asin carefully.  "I'd really hate to suspect you of hiding things from me."

            Asin shrugged merrily.  "I guess you'll never know, huh?"

            Draco was unamused.  "Crabbe, Goyle – grab her."

            They obeyed.  The two boys were large and slow, yes, but they were also between Asin and the door.

            She looked up at Draco with beseeching eyes.  "You wouldn't really let them hurt me, would you, Draco?"

            Draco smiled back at her, quite pleasantly.  "You wouldn't really conceal things from me, would you, Asin?  Now," his face abruptly darkened, "do you or do you not know anything more about the Witness?"

            Asin hung her head.  "I don't."

            "Wrong answer."  Draco leveled his wand at her face.  Asin stared at him in horror.  "_Maligne_ – "

            "Draco, don't!"  Pansy grabbed his arm, pulling it away.

            Draco looked at her impassively.  "Why not?"

            "Because I don't want to have to explain to Madam Pomfrey why Asin's got her eyes hanging out," Pansy said plaintively.  "Or why her eyebrows are live snakes, or whatever it is you were going to do to her.  I don't have time to waste in the hospital wing – I've still got figure out how to fill three and a half more inches of my essay about the different types of ghosts!"

            Draco snorted contemptuously.  "This is a bit more important than your essay, Pansy," he told her.  "I think – "

            "_I_ think that you'd better lower your wand, Draco."

            Everyone's eyes shot to the door, where Tabitha was lounging against the doorframe.  Her own wand was pointed lazily at the ground in front of Draco – though her attitude suggested that this could change at any time.

            "What are you doing here, Nott?" Draco growled.

            "What, I can't look out for the interests of a fellow Slytherin?"  Tabitha smirked.  "I just thought I'd let you know that our American guests are here.  The Slytherin prefects really ought to put in an appearance."

            Draco rolled his eyes.  "I have nothing to say to that lot."

            Tabitha shrugged, tracing patterns in the air with her wand.  "Your loss.  After all, I'm sure the Witness wouldn't be an _American_."  She smiled sweetly, and left before anyone else could get in another word.

            "_Where am I?_"  Autumn stared at the people gathered around her.  "Who are you people?  What happened to the airport?"

            "Oh, no."  The elderly lady who'd brought Autumn in the first place was starting to look very nervous.  "You were meant to be a part of this trip, weren't you, sweetie?"

            "What trip?" Autumn demanded.  Then, into an increasingly alarmed silence, "_What trip?_"

            "Hello, Juliet.  I'd say it's a pleasure to have you here, but there seems to be a problem marring the joy of the occasion."

            Autumn twisted around to get a look at the new speaker, addressing the lady.  He looked incredibly strange.  He was old, much too old to be wearing that dress he had on.  "Who are you?"

            The man smiled kindly at her.  "Hello to you, too, Miss.  You do ask a lot of questions.  Curiosity is the mark of a healthy mind."

            Autumn scrambled to her feet.  She felt more capable of facing the world when she was standing.  "Don't you dare make fun of me!  My dad will know I'm gone any time now, and you'll be sorry when you're in jail for kidnapping me!"

            "No one kidnapped you," the lady – Juliet? – said, alarmed.  "You've just been accidentally included in an overseas trip."

            "Overseas?"  Autumn stared at the lady like she was insane.  Which, of course, she probably was.  "We haven't gone overseas.  We maybe went on some crazy drug-induced high, but we haven't actually traveled anywhere."

            "Oh, dear, I do seem to have made a mess of things."  The lady grimaced.  "Do you know who I am, dear?" she asked, not very hopefully.

            "No."

            "Well, it was worth a try."  The lady sighed in resignation.  "I'm Juliet Anderson, Head of the League of American Witchcraft Academies."

            "The _what_?"  Autumn realized she was starting to sound like a broken record.  She tried a new approach.  "There's no such thing as magic."

            "I'm afraid you're quite mistaken, Miss…?"  The old man raised his eyebrows questioningly, waiting for her name.  Autumn did not oblige.  Eventually, he went on.  "There seems to have been some sort of mix-up, involving you in a spell that should have happened entirely without your knowledge."

            Autumn would have backed away, but the crowd of teenagers from the airport was behind her.  "You're crazy."

            "Some would say so."  The man didn't sound at all insulted.  He smiled happily at her, holding out a hand for her to shake.  "I'm Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

            "You're a raving loony."  Autumn pointedly didn't take his hand.  "Albus Dumbledore is a character from a book.  I don't know how you people got me here, or why you're all pretending to be witches, but you'd better send me home right now!"

            "A character from a book?" the Dumbledore-impersonator repeated meditatively.  Apparently, he hadn't heard anything except that.  "Now, what makes you say that?"

            Autumn ignored this as being too silly for words.  "You'd better take me home right now!"

            "Well, of course, dear," Anderson said.  "We'll be glad to, just as soon as we figure out what happened.  I could have sworn that your phone was tapped into the spell network we organized."

            Autumn frowned suspiciously.  "Do you mean Verizon?"

            Anderson blinked in confusion.  "No, I'm afraid not.  But please, was your telephone acting at all strangely before I found you?  Were you talking to anyone you didn't know, perhaps?"

            Autumn hesitated, eyes narrowed.  "If I was, why should I tell you?" she wanted to know.

            "Because we're hardly going to send you back to America without finding out!" Anderson said, exasperated.

            "I really do suggest you help us discover what went so wrong as to allow you to come here," the would-be-Dumbledore said.  "I should hate to send you back, only to find out later that there are permanent ill effects."

            "Ill effects?" Autumn asked warily.  "What are you talking about?"

            The man just smiled.  "You continue to ask questions even when you have the pair of us at a disadvantage.  Won't you tell us your name?"

            Autumn considered it.  Of course, it wasn't very smart to tell your name to random people you meet in the airport… but she really couldn't see how it would make her current situation any worse.  "Autumn Vance."

            "Miss Vance."  The man nodded, in what could very well have been satisfaction.  "I thought that might be it.  And you have been conversing with our Mr. Malfoy, have you not?"

            Autumn started.  "How did you know that?" she demanded.

            "I know a great many things," the man said easily.  "This, however, I learned from a pair of ladies named Lianne and Erin – "

            "You _do_ know them!"  Autumn took several threatening steps towards the man before remembering that he was much larger than she was, even if he was old.  "Where are they?  Did you kidnap them, too?"

            "We didn't kidnap anyone!" Anderson objected.  "It was entirely accidental.  Albus, do you know how this happened?"

            The man studied Autumn pensively.  "Perhaps."

            "Then tell me!" Autumn said impatiently.  "Or better yet, bring Erin and Lianne here, and _they_ can tell me!"

            "That is not feasible at this point in time," the man said.  "However – "

            "Why isn't it?" Autumn interrupted.  "You said you had them here."  She paled.  "You haven't killed them, have you?"

            "Now, Miss Vance, please calm down," the man tried to say.

            Autumn was having none of it.  "You have!  Or if you haven't, you've done something else awful to them!  You're probably involved in some sort of terrible crime ring – I mean, you'd have to have some involvement with drugs to knock me out for the trip to wherever we are.  Well, whatever you've done to Li and Erin, you aren't going to do it to me!  I've taken self-defense classes, and I'll be able to hurt at least some of you before you can do anything to me!"

            "For the last time, we are not going to do anything to you!" Anderson tried to explain.  She sighed.  "Albus, can't we do something?"

            "Do something?  What, are you going to shoot me now?  Is that what you want – an unexplained dead body on your hands?"  Autumn realized she was trembling, and immediately ordered herself to stop.  "Do you think that the police won't notice I'm gone?  I was with my friend, and the first thing she'll do when she sees I'm gone is to tell them.  You'll be in trouble then!  I – what is that?"  Autumn stopped short, watching in disbelief as the man pulled a stick out of his dress.

            "Nothing at all."  The man smiled pleasantly.  "Miss Vance, I really suggest that you calm down, before I have to make you."

            "So now you're threatening me?" Autumn demanded.  "I most certainly will not calm down!  I bet you're scared someone's going to hear me and come running!  Well, if that's what you're worried about, I'm sure as hell not going to make you any less worried!  I – "

            "_Stupefy!_"

            Autumn collapsed, unconscious.

            Dumbledore sighed.  "I hate having to do that."

            "And now we have to deal with yet another upstart American teenager with no past."

            "Severus, you don't know that's what's going on," McGonagall said reasonably.  "She could be nothing like Lianne."

            "Hah."  The Potions teacher was unmollified.  "You say that, but I can tell you right now _exactly_ what is going to happen from this moment on.  After a great deal of fuss trying to convince that girl that magic is real, we will take her back to search for her home in America.  It won't be there.  We'll bring her back and, through some twisted logic, she will be enrolled at Hogwarts, and all of _us_ will have to sacrifice _our_ free time to train her because she is _six years_ behind where she ought to be.  Well, I refuse to be part of it."

            Dumbledore smiled.  "Well, you do seem to have this all worked out, Severus."

            "I don't know why you think we won't be able to send her home," Anderson said, frowning.  "What are you talking about, saying her home won't be there?  Where else would it be?"

            "Call it a lucky guess," Snape said darkly.

            "Severus is just grouchy because he doesn't like two of Miss Vance's friends," Dumbledore said, ignoring Snape's glare.

            "Her friends – that's right," Anderson said.  "You mean you really do know those two people she was going on about?"

            "Of course.  You've met Lianne yourself."  Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.  "Or don't you remember?"

            "What – oh."  Anderson nodded.  "Ms. Black, the emissary you sent to help organize the American part of this telephone operation.  But Miss Vance seemed to be under the impression that her friends had been kidnapped."

            "It's quite a puzzle, and no mistake," Dumbledore agreed.  "Lianne is, as you know, still unavailable, but I'll write to Ms. Erin Connor.  She may be able to visit in the next few days.  Perhaps her presence will be calming for Miss Vance."

            "But that doesn't explain what we're going to do with that girl," McGonagall pointed out.  "We can't leave her unconscious in the hospital wing indefinitely."

            "I know.  We'll have her woken up, then ask her address."  Dumbledore glanced at Anderson.  "We can send someone to America to…"  He paused.

            "To see if her family still exists?" Snape filled in the gap cynically.

            "To notify her relatives," Dumbledore finished, with a quelling look at Snape.  "Besides, we'll need someone on hand to modify their memories, when – "

            "If."

            " – _when_ we send Miss Vance home."  Dumbledore sighed.  "Really, Severus, you might try to be at least a bit more optimistic."

            The Potions master's only answer was a snort of disgust.

            "_Ennervate_."

            Autumn groaned.  She must have overslept.  What had happened to her alarm clock?  It was weird – she'd had the strangest dream, about being at Hogwarts – 

            Her surroundings registered.

            "_Oh my God!_"  Autumn sat up so abruptly she nearly cracked heads with the woman bending over her.  "Where am I?"

            "The hospital wing, of course," the woman – the nurse? – said.  "I'm Madam Pomfrey, and – "

            "You aren't."

            "I beg your pardon?"  The nurse was affronted.  "I most certainly am!"

            "You most certainly are _not_."  Autumn was determined to have this settled, once and for all.  "I don't know why you lot want to pretend to be book characters, but I'm not going to play along.  I – "

            "Thank you, Poppy, I'll take it from here."

            Autumn looked up.  It was the same man from before.  Her eyes narrowed.  "You knocked me unconscious."

            "I'm afraid so," he said, not in the least apologetic.  "You really didn't leave me much choice.  You were making quite a fuss."

            "Of course I made a fuss," Autumn said.  "You kidnapped me!"

            "Ms. Anderson made an honest mistake," the man said firmly.  "She thought you were someone else, or she would never have brought you here."

            "Then how come you've got my friends here?" Autumn wanted to know.  "And why can't I see them?"

            "You can't see them because they aren't actually here," the man told her.  "Erin is in Wales at the moment.  Lianne was here for a while, but now she's back in America."

            "Good.  Send me back, too."

            "It isn't that simple," the man said patiently.  "I need to know where you live, first."

            "Baltimore, of course," Autumn said, annoyed.  "That's where you people found me, isn't it?"

            "Of course."  The man sounded a little too placating for Autumn's tastes.  "But where exactly in Baltimore?  Do you have an address?"

            "I'm not telling you."

            "Then how do you expect to get home?" the man pointed out reasonably.

            "Send me back to the airport," Autumn said promptly.

            "No."

            Autumn was taken aback by this flat refusal.  "Why not?"

            "Let us say that I have my reasons.  Now," the man leveled a very creepy gaze on her, "please tell me your address."

            Autumn shivered, deciding she didn't want to cross this man.  "4722 Barrington Court."

            "Thank you."  The man smiled.  "That wasn't so painful, was it?"  Autumn was silent.  "Why don't you stay here until we can locate your house?  Then we'll send you back as soon as we can."

            "Locate?  But I just gave you – "  But the man had left already.  Autumn sighed.  "Weird guy."

            Autumn looked around the room.  It looked pretty much like a normal doctor's examination room, except that there were several more cots, all of them empty.  Autumn stood up, and some of her joints cracked.  She winced, wondering how long she'd been unconscious.

            Having no intention of sitting around doing nothing while the lunatics here did God-knows-what with her address, Autumn wandered over to a table piled with what appeared to be medicines.  They were certainly in medicinal jars, but the labels were pretty crazy.  What was a "bezoar," and why did it sound strangely familiar?  And did that really say "Pepper-Up Potion?"  Who did these people think they were fooling, anyway?

            Getting tired of poking around, Autumn wondered where the nurse had gone.  She didn't seem much more sensible than that Dumbledore-man, but she might be a little more willing to give some good explanations.

            There were some screens at the back of the room, and a door.  Autumn tried the door handle first, but it was locked.  She scowled.  That probably meant the nurse was hiding back there.

            Autumn briefly debated leaving the hospital wing, but decided against it.  That man had said he'd come back and take her home, so she might as well wait to see if he was going to keep his word.  Besides, supposedly Erin and Lianne were here somewhere, and what was she doing if not trying to find Erin and Lianne?  Autumn went to sit back down.

            "Hey, girl!"

            Autumn jumped, turning back to look at the screens.  A voice had come from behind one of them.  She hadn't realized there were other people there.  She walked cautiously over to the screen where the voice had come from.  "You mean me?"

            "Yeah.  Come here, would you?"

            Autumn shrugged, and went past the screen.  There was a boy about her age there, lying on his side on a cot, with a blanket draped over him up to his waist.  He stared at her with eager interest.

            "Well?" Autumn asked after a moment, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

            "Oh, I just wanted to look at you," the boy explained.  "I've never seen a Muggle up close before."

            Autumn rolled her eyes.  "You lot really are crazy, aren't you?  Muggles, wizards, funny clothes… if it weren't for the kidnapping part, I'd think this was some huge role-playing game."

            "What's a role-playing game?" the boy wanted to know.  "Is it a Muggle thing?  Does it have to do with telephones?"

            Autumn stared at him in disbelief.  "You are either a very good actor or a very big idiot."

            "Well, Draco says I'm an idiot," the boy said, not sounding particularly concerned by this.

            "Draco."  Autumn tried to inject this word with all the skeptical contempt she could muster.

            "Draco Malfoy," the boy agreed.  He sniffed.  "He says lots of things, actually.  Mum says I should listen to him if I want to get ahead in the world."  He sniffed again, loudly.

            Autumn took a step away.  "Are you sick – no, of course you're sick, you're in a hospital wing.  Are you contagious?"

            "Huh?  Oh, you mean the sniffing!"  The boy smiled, pleased to have figured it out without help.  "No, it's just that Draco says that Muggles smell funny.  But you don't.  Maybe if you came closer?"

            Autumn glared at him.  "I do not smell funny!"

            "Ok," the boy said agreeably.  "Maybe Draco was just confused.  I don't think he really knows all that much about Muggles, anyway.  He said they're all stupid, but I think they must be quite clever to come up with things like staplers."

            Autumn blinked.  She had to ask.  "Staplers?"

            "Oh, yes," the boy said enthusiastically.  "We learned about those in class the other day.  They go click, and this little bit of metal comes out, and you know what it does?"  He lowered his voice, as if this revelation was the most thrilling in the world.  "It _sticks things together!"_

            "Ok…"  Autumn backed away, towards the edge of the screen.  "You know, I should probably go back out here – "

            "Mr. Zabini?"

            Autumn spun around.  The nurse was standing behind her, looking extremely disapproving.

            "Mr. Zabini is not supposed to have guests," the nurse said sternly.

            "I don't mind," the boy – Zabini – spoke up.  "It's really boring back here alone."

            "You ought to be resting," the nurse said.

            "I did rest," Zabini objected.  "I rested for hours and hours.  And she's the only one who's visited me, except when Draco and Tabitha came last night."

            The nurse's face softened a little.  She glanced at Autumn.  "Well… I suppose you can stay and talk.  But just talking, mind!  I'll let the Headmaster know where you'll be.  But stay here!  No more wandering."  She left.

            Autumn sighed, seating herself on the chair beside the bed.  It looked like she was stuck with this boy, at least for a little while.  A thought struck her.  "Say – I don't suppose your first name is Blaise, is it?"

            "Yes!"  The boy looked incredibly pleased.  "You guessed!  Well, I already know your name.  You're Autumn Vance."

            Autumn drew back.  "How'd you know that?"

            "They were talking about you when they brought you in," Blaise informed her.  "Professor Dumbledore and the American lady.  They don't know how you got here.  Do you know?"

            "They kidnapped me," Autumn said shortly.

            "Did they really?"  Blaise was fascinated.  "Why?"

            "I have no idea," Autumn said.  "But they kidnapped my two friends in the past few days, as well.  I don't suppose you know them?" she asked hopefully.  "Erin Connor and Lianne Treyvan?"

            "Um."  Blaise's forehead creased with the effort of thought.  "I don't think so.  I know a Sally-Ann, though."

            "What?" Autumn asked blankly.

            "Well, Lianne, Sally-Ann," Blaise said.  "They sound kind of the same."

            "Not really."  Autumn shook her head.  "Look, this place – this castle, or whatever.  Where is it?"

            "You mean Hogwarts?"  Blaise considered this.  "I'm not sure.  I know it's in Scotland somewhere, but I'm pretty sure it's Unplottable, so I don't know exactly where."

            Autumn groaned.  "Not you, too!  Why is everyone so convinced this place is really Hogwarts?"

            "Um… because it is?" Blaise said.

            "It's _not_!" Autumn snapped.  "Hogwarts is a place in a book.  It isn't real.  Next, you'll be saying that thousands of years ago there was a little furry person running around trying to destroy an all-powerful evil ring!"

            Blaise was silent for a moment.  "Do all Muggles yell a lot?" he asked eventually.

            "I'm not – "  Autumn paused, then tried again in a lower tone of voice.  "I'm not yelling.  I just can't figure out why you all think you're characters from a book."

            "I don't think I'm a book character," Blaise said, perturbed.  "I mean, I'd know, wouldn't I?  I'd be little words floating around.  Or maybe I'd just be written down on a page somewhere…"

            Autumn stared at him.  "What are you – "  She shook her head.  "Never mind."  She decided that this was enough of this subject.  "So how come you're in here?  You don't look sick."

            To her astonishment, Blaise blushed.  "It's kind of a long story," he said, embarrassed.

            Autumn shrugged.  "Well, you don't have to tell it if you don't want to," she said.  "But if you do, I've got nothing if not time."

            Blaise hesitated.  "You'll laugh at me."

            "Maybe.  If you did something stupid, like set your arm on fire," Autumn said candidly.

            "No," Blaise said.  "Nothing like that."  He looked at his hands.  He seemed to want to talk about it, Autumn realized.  But from what he'd said earlier, he didn't seem to have had any sympathetic visitors.  She resigned herself to listening to what would probably be a very dull story.

            "Then what?" she encouraged him.

            "Well, there's this guy…"

            "I told you so."

            "Yes, all right, Severus, you told us," McGonagall snapped.  "Now stop gloating and help us figure out what to do about this girl."

            "The poor thing… no trace of her family at all…"  Anderson shook her head sadly.

 "I thought you said you found an uncle," Sinistra said, frowning.

            "There was _evidence_ of an uncle," McGonagall corrected.  "However, this Marvin Vance passed away several years ago."

            "Leaving quite a large sum of money to Miss Autumn Vance, it seems," Dumbledore added.  "Quite puzzling."

            "Why?" Sprout asked.  "Not the part about not finding her family, but her uncle.  Why shouldn't he leave his money to her?"

            "Oh, no reason, of course," Dumbledore said, smiling.  "Just a thought of mine.  And now," his face turned serious, "we turn to the more difficult matter.  We have established that Miss Vance no longer has a family in America to return to.  The remaining decision is – what do we do with her?"

            "I don't suppose we can just ship her back to America," Snape said, not very hopefully.

            "Actually, Severus has a point," Sinistra said.  "This girl isn't our responsibility.  She isn't even the American League's responsibility.  She's a Muggle.  The American Muggle government must have its own method of dealing with orphans."

            "And do you want to be the one to explain to these Muggles exactly how poor Miss Vance came to lose her family?" Angela Stellarum, the Muggle Studies professor, asked.  "The whole disappearance just reeks of magic."

            "We'd be hard pressed to explain it to a wizard employee, let alone a Muggle," Samantha Deva, the Study of Ancient Runes professor, agreed.  "Unless the rest of you know something that I don't, of course.  But I just don't see how this Muggle girl could have gotten here all by herself."

            "Unless, of course, she is not a Muggle."

            All eyes turned to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  Until then she'd been watching with slight amusement, as she usually did during any sort of staff meeting.  But whenever she deigned to make a comment, everyone listened.  Anything Miache Sanguinis had to say was almost always worth hearing.

            "What makes you say that, Miache?" Dumbledore asked.

            "Was it a premonition?" Trelawney asked eagerly.

            "No.  It vas simple logic."  Miache sighed.  "You say zhis girl unknowingly tapped into your telephone system?  Vell, isn't zhat 'ow you can tell magical children from nonmagical?  If zhey can perform magic wizzout knowing vhat zhey are doing?"

            "That's certainly a good point."  Anderson looked slightly uncomfortable to be addressing a vampire.  "But if Miss Vance were a witch, our detectors would have sensed her when she was much younger."

            "Ah, yes, we all know about the American magic-detecting equipment."  Snape snorted.

            "Severus, please," Dumbledore said calmingly.

            "Yes, you might at least try to contribute," McGonagall added, with a great deal less patience than the Headmaster showed.  "Or make helpful observations, instead of those cryptic mutterings."

            "Very well.  I will be blunt."  Snape eyed Anderson with sneering dislike – not that this was particularly different from the way he viewed most people.  "Your much-vaunted magic-detecting equipment couldn't find a wizard in the next room.  The only way you find students is by tracking the accidental spells they perform.  It is perfectly possible that, not only is Miss Vance a witch, but that there are dozens of other witches and wizards across the country who simply haven't had the misfortune to make a mistake severe enough to attract the notice of your employees."

            "Now, Severus, that seems a little harsh," Sprout said indignantly.

            "Really?  I zhought it summed up ze situation wiz remarkable accuracy and insight."  Miache smiled in that special way that made her fangs glint in the light, reminding everyone in the room that this was a vampire they were speaking to.

            "Well, there's only one way to find out for sure, isn't there?" Sinistra said reasonably.  "Give the girl a simple spell to try and see if she can manage.  That will settle the matter once and for all."

            "But what are you planning to do if she is a witch?" Stellarum asked.  "She still thinks she's a Muggle."

            "I suppose we'll have to train her," Anderson said reluctantly.  "Although I'm not at all sure the American League will accept her into their schools.  She didn't register on the equipment – which, might I add, is state-of-the-art – so in our public school systems she's still a Muggle."

            "But suppose she _is_ a Muggle," Deva pointed out.  "Just because her situation is magical, it doesn't follow that she is.  Her memory will have to be completely reconstructed."

            "If she is a Muggle, maybe a boarding school would accept her without too many questions," Anderson said.  "Or – well, might Ms. Black be persuaded to take charge of this girl?"

            "She might," Dumbledore conceded.  "However, Lianne is traveling quite a lot these days.  She may not be able to take responsibility for a teenage girl."

            "Her other friend, then," Anderson suggested.  "What was her name?"

            "Erin Connor."  Snape smiled humorlessly.  "That would certainly be interesting."

            Anderson frowned.  "What do you mean?"

            "Ms. Connor is only nineteen herself," Dumbledore explained.  "I don't think that idea will work.  But – "

            "This speculation is all well and good," McGonagall spoke up, "but we still don't know if Miss Vance is a witch or not.  Shouldn't we determine that, before we make any decisions?"

            "As I was about to say," Dumbledore said, with a wry smile in McGonagall's direction, "Ms. Connor has replied to the letter I sent her when Miss Vance came, and she is planning to arrive here just after sunset.  Since Miss Vance does not appear to trust any of us enough to believe what we tell her about magic, perhaps it might be best to wait for Ms. Connor to attempt any tests of Miss Vance's magical abilities."

            "Ms. Connor is coming 'ere?"  At this, Miache showed some interest.  "Is she flying?"

            "I don't believe so," Dumbledore said.  "She and Mr. Lupin are coming to Hogsmeade by Floo Powder."

            "Oh."  Miache lost interest.

            "Well, then it's settled," Dumbledore said.

            "But what are we going to do with that girl until sunset?" Anderson asked.  "She can't just sit alone in your hospital wing."

            "She and Mr. Zabini seem to be getting along well, according to Poppy," Dumbledore said.  "I'm sure she will have no difficulty in passing the three hours or so until Ms. Connor arrives.  Now," he smiled, "shall we conclude the telephone exchange program?"

            "But why haven't you got a partner, Draco?"

            Draco snapped out of the contemplation he'd been in at Pansy's words.  "What?"

            "Your phone partner," Pansy repeated impatiently.  "You were complaining about her the other day.  Where is she?"

            And here it came.  Draco thought he might be sick.  Everyone in the school knew by now that somehow, a Muggle girl had been included in the exchange.  And since he was the only one who hadn't paired up with an American, it would only be a matter of time until someone put two and two together.

            But Pansy was still waiting for a response.  "I guess she couldn't come," Draco said, berating himself for not coming up with something better.

            Pansy seemed to accept this.  "Lucky you."  She rolled her eyes at the American witch sitting stiffly beside her in the Slytherin Common Room.

            Someone tapped Draco on the shoulder.  He turned around.  "Professor Snape?"

            "Come with me," the professor said in clipped tones, the look in his eyes boding ill for anyone who crossed him today.

            "Yes, sir."  Draco followed immediately, not wanting to be the one who received the full share of Snape's wrath.  This _had_ to be about that Muggle girl.  She must've mentioned him.

            Snape led Draco into the staff room, where most of the teachers, as well as Juliet Anderson, were gathered.  "Hello, Draco," Dumbledore said pleasantly.  "Sit down, please."

            Draco did so, trying not to feel like he was a small child being called out for punishment.  "What do you want?"

            "I understand you've been talking with Miss Autumn Vance?" Anderson said.  "Were you aware that she is a Muggle?"

            So they didn't know he knew!  Draco would have breathed a sigh of relief, but it would have been a dead giveaway.  Time to call on the old acting skills.

            "A _what_?"  Draco curled his lip in disgust.  "You're joking."

            "I'm afraid not," Stellarum said.  "There seems to have been some mix-up with the phone network.  Did you happen to notice it at all?"

            Draco pretended to think back.  "Well, she did strike me as remarkably dim," he said thoughtfully, "but I thought that was just because she was an American."  Anderson's smile became rather forced.  "So if she's a Muggle, how did she get here?"

            "We were hoping you might have some idea," Dumbledore said.  "Perhaps she said something to indicate – "

            "She didn't say much of anything," Draco said flatly.  "She yelled, she insulted me, and she said I was harassing her.  And she was the one who kept calling me!"

            "Really?"  Stellarum seemed to find that tremendously interesting.

            "Yes."  Draco leaned back in his chair, coolly eyeing the group.  "Can I go now, or do you want to continue interrogating me?"

            Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Anderson exchanged glances.  "You may go, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said.  "And ten points from Slytherin for that insolent attitude towards our guests."

            Draco rolled his eyes, and left without another word.  He smiled a little as he headed back to the dungeons.  He might just get out of this after all, if he played his cards right.

            "New friend, Zabini?"

            Autumn and Blaise stopped talking with a start, turning to look at the person who had just entered the hospital wing.  Autumn raised her eyebrows as she got a good look at the girl.  She had bright purple hair, cropped at only a few inches long.

            "Hi, Mandy."  Blaise sounded more on edge than he had at any other point in their conversation.  "This is Autumn Vance."

            "The Muggle, huh?"  Mandy grinned.  "Nice to meet you.  I'm Mandy Brocklehurst.  I'm tutoring Blaise here while he's out of action."

            "Tutoring him?  In what?" Autumn asked curiously.

            "Oh, you know."  Mandy dropped into the seat beside Autumn.  "Classes.  You can listen in, if you like."

            Autumn shrugged.  "Well, I don't have anything better to do."

            "Blunt," was Mandy's only comment, but she didn't sound particularly upset.  "So, Blaise, shall we start with Herbology?"

            "Are ve nearly there?"

            Remus smiled at Erin.  "Very nearly.  Hogwarts has large grounds."

            "Too large," Erin agreed.  They had to walk across the grounds to get to the door to the castle because, to Erin's extreme irritation, Hogwarts had all sorts of new wards up against vampires.  Last year, several vampires had attacked the school, under Voldemort's orders.  Those attacks had encouraged Lady Miache to take a job as a Hogwarts professor – but they'd also led to the new protections.

            "Finally," Erin said, as they reached the castle doors.  She tilted her head back to look at the entire building.  "I'm alvays amazed – this place is so big."

            Remus smiled again.  "So it is."  He held the door open for her.  "Now, I believe we're to go to the hospital wing."

            "And you can find it?"

            Remus laughed.  "I should think so.  My friends and I ended up spending a lot of time there."

            Erin was too anxious to be amused.  Dumbledore's letter had set her very much on edge.  She'd spent over a year believing that Autumn and Hazel were gone for good, and she'd almost managed to resign herself to losing her good friend and her favorite cousin.  Hearing that Autumn had appeared out of the blue had reopened all the old wounds from losing her friends, family, and home.

            Remus sighed, noticing her distress.  "Don't worry, Erin," he told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  "I'm sure this will turn out well."

            Erin wasn't convinced, but she took comfort from him anyway.

            "Erin?  Remus?  Ah, good, you're here."

            "Dumbledore!"  Erin waved at him as he approached.  "Is Autumn really here?"

            "It would certainly seem so," Dumbledore said.  "May I walk with you to the hospital wing?"

            "Of course," Remus said.

            "Good."  Dumbledore fell into step beside them.  "Now, you know what it is Miss Vance needs to know, correct?"

            Erin nodded.  "We need to explain about the magical world."  She gave a half smile.  "Knowing Autumn, she's been going crazy trying to come up with a logical explanation."

            "She's suggested kidnapping, drugs, and a crime ring so far," Dumbledore agreed.  "And I'm sure she's come up with some more complex theories in the time since she arrived.  But that's not all."  He sighed.  "Erin, I'm afraid history has repeated itself."

            "What?"  Erin blinked.

            "We have been able to locate neither Miss Vance's home nor her family," Dumbledore said.  "Her situation is very much what yours was last summer."

            "Oh, no!"  Erin was horrified.  "Poor Autumn!  Does she know?"

            "I was hoping you'd be the one to tell her," Dumbledore admitted.  "She doesn't seem to trust anyone here – I can't imagine why."  His eyes twinkled briefly.

            "Leave me vith the hard stuff," Erin said, resigned.

            "But what's going to happen to Autumn?" Remus asked.  "She's all alone here."

            "That brings us to the second thing about Miss Vance," Dumbledore said.  "It's possible that she is a witch."

            Erin gaped.  "You're joking."

            "I'm afraid not," Dumbledore told her.  "We aren't sure, of course, but it's possible that she unconsciously used her magic to tap into the enchanted telephone network between Hogwarts and the American League."

            "Amazing."  Erin grinned suddenly.  "She'll never believe it."

            "So I gathered, from even just a few minutes in her company."  Dumbledore smiled back.  "However, as I said, no one can be sure whether she is a witch or not.  So, after you've explained everything to Miss Vance's satisfaction, hopefully you will be able to persuade her to attempt a few simple spells."

            "That doesn't sound very exact," Remus said doubtfully.  "There has to be another way of testing for magic."

            "Most countries have their own methods of testing," Dumbledore agreed.  "Unfortunately, the American method is… not necessarily the most foolproof.  Children need to have a higher level of magic to be registered in America than in Britain."

            "That's right – it didn't pick up Lianne," Remus said.  "But couldn't Hogwarts' test be applied to Autumn?"

            "Not without a great deal of time and effort that could be better spent on other issues," Dumbledore said firmly.  "If Miss Vance is a Muggle, there will be no response.  If she is a witch, something will happen.  It may not be what the spell is intended to do, but it will be _something_."

            "Miss Vance?"

            The nurse interrupted Mandy's explanation of how to tell apart the different kinds of Hellebore, and why eating any of them would be an extremely stupid thing to do.

            Autumn looked up at the nurse.  "What?  Are you going to send me home now?"

            "You have guests," the nurse said, with a disapproving look for Autumn's tone of voice.  "From outside the school."

            "Guests?"  Autumn frowned.  Who'd visit her?  Who even knew she was here?  She followed the nurse out to the main section of the hospital wing.

            "Autumn!"

            Autumn's jaw dropped.  "Erin!  What – how – what are you doing here?"  Her face darkened.  "Hazel has been panicking ever since you disappeared!  Why didn't you call us or something?  How could you just abandon us?"

            "I didn't mean to leave," Erin said guiltily.  "It just kind of… happened."  She shook her head.  "Look, are you ok?  How are you feeling?"

            "Awful," Autumn said flatly.  "These people are all insane.  They think this place is Hogwarts."

            "Um… yes."  Erin looked extremely uncomfortable.  "About that."  She sighed.  "Maybe you'd better sit down.  Or," she looked over at the nurse, "should ve go somevhere else?"

            "Here is as good a place as any," the nurse said with a sniff.  "Besides, this way I'll be on hand to treat her if she goes into shock."

            "I'm not going to go into shock!" Autumn said angrily.

            "Of course not," the nurse said soothingly.  She took a bar of something from a drawer in the table.  "Why don't you have some chocolate?"

            "I don't want chocolate!" Autumn snapped.  "I want to know what's going on!"

            The nurse handed the bar of chocolate to the man standing with Erin.  "You give this to her as soon as she'll take it," she instructed.  "And she's to eat all of it, mind."

            The man nodded.  "I'll see to it, Poppy."  The nurse left.

            Autumn eyed the man suspiciously.  "Who are you?"

            "Oh, that's right, you don't know each other," Erin said.  "Remus, this is Autumn Vance.  Autumn, this is Remus Lupin."

            Autumn paused, waiting for Erin to laugh.  "You're joking, right?"

            "Nope."  Erin smiled up at Remus.  "He's the real thing."

            Autumn closed her eyes and sat down on the cot behind her.  "This is ridiculous."

            "I know it's hard to believe – "

            "_Not that_!"  Autumn's eyes shot open to glare at Erin.  "I thought you were the sensible one!  If this were Lianne, I could believe it – no, I'd expect it! – but _you_!  I never thought you'd be taken in by some creep with a crazy story!  What's wrong with you?  A few days ago you were fine, and now – now you're all lovey-dovey with some guy old enough to be your father, and you're wearing a strange dress, and – oh, my God."  Autumn froze.  "You're one of them now, aren't you?"

            "Huh?"  Erin looked extremely confused by this shift in the train of the rant.

            "You've joined up with the kidnappers and the lunatics!"  Autumn turned on Remus.  "This is all your fault!"

            He took a step backwards.  "_My_ fault?"

            "Yes.  Your fault."  Autumn glared ominously at him.  "I don't know what you did to her to make her think you're a wizard, but whatever it is, you'd better stop right now!  When her parents find out, you'll be in deep trouble, mister!"

            "Autumn, please try to calm down," Erin said, exasperated.  "There really is a logical explanation, if you'll just listen!"

            "I will _not_ listen!" Autumn stormed.  "You'll just brainwash me the way he did to you!  Is that what happened to Lianne?  Is she off somewhere with another perverted old man pretending to be Sirius?"  This startled Remus to no end, but Autumn didn't give him a chance to say anything.  "That's got to be it.  If this is convincing enough to fool you, Lianne wouldn't have stood a chance!  Well, I will not be taken in!"

            "Autumn – "

            "I can see what's in front of me, even if you can't!  These people are crazier than any I've ever heard of, and I'm not letting them twist my mind!"

            "Please, try to calm down, or you might – "

            "Whatever it is that you think is proof, it has to have been faked!  I don't know what they showed you, but it will not fool me!"

            "In places like this, strong emotions can trigger – "

            "I will not give in!"

            _Crash!_

            Autumn stopped short.  Erin winced.  "I tried to tell you," she said, shrugging.  Autumn looked across the room.  The jars on the table, which had contained oddly named mixtures, were now a chaotic mess of shattered glass and strange liquids and powders.

            "What just happened?" she asked slowly.  "There was no one over there – I know I would have noticed.  How did that mess get there?"

            "You did that," Remus said with a sigh.  "Well, it seems that we have an answer to Dumbledore's question."

            "I did _not_ do that," Autumn said positively.  "It only happened just now, and I was all the way over here."  She looked at Erin and Remus suspiciously.  "Did either of you – no, how could you have?  I was looking at you the entire time!"

            "Do you vant that explanation now?" Erin asked, with a small smile.

            "Yeah… yeah, I think so."  Autumn stared uncomprehendingly at Erin as the older girl sat on the cot across from her.  After a moment's hesitation, Remus sat beside Erin.  "I just don't understand…"

            "I know," Erin said sympathetically.  "It's hard.  But if I explain it all, do you promise to believe me?"

            "No."  Autumn snorted softly.  "You have to know me better than that.  But if, when you've told me everything, it all makes sense, _then_ I'll believe you."

            "Fair enough."  Erin smiled.  "Vhat do you vant me to start vith?"

            Autumn frowned.  "With that accent you've picked up.  What's with that?"

            Erin grimaced.  "You had to pick vun of the hard questions first," she said.  "It's complicated."

            "Obviously," Autumn muttered.

            "No interrupting," Erin said sternly.  "I'll never get through this if you keep making comments."

            "Fine," Autumn said grudgingly.  "I'll be a good girl and listen quietly."

            "Good," Erin said, relieved.  "And be sure you keep that in mind… because this is pretty unbelievable."

            "So let me get this straight," Autumn said, once Erin had finished her explanation.  "You're a vampire and you're dating a werewolf, Lianne is not just a witch, but a _married_ witch, and you've both got yourselves very well established in this lovely little magical world in _less than five days?_"

            "Vell, no, not exactly," Erin said.  "It's been more than that for us."

            Autumn rolled her eyes.  "You really expect me to believe that time passes at different rates in Britain and in America?"

            Erin didn't rise to the bait.  "I've been here for a year and a half, Autumn.  Lianne's been here for more than twenty years."

            "No way."  Autumn drew back.  "I don't believe that.  I don't believe any of this.  You're lying."

            "I'm not," Erin said.  "I can prove it, if you like."

            "How?  Are you going to drink someone's blood?" Autumn scoffed.

            "No!"  Erin scowled.  "I vouldn't kill somevun just to prove a point.  And I don't drink human blood, anyvay."

            "Whatever."  Autumn rolled her eyes.  "There's nothing you can say that would make me believe you, so you might as well – "

            Erin disappeared.

            Autumn froze, then waved a hand through the space where Erin had been.  She looked over at Remus.  "Where'd she go?"

            Remus laughed.  He had somehow acquired a little bird, which hopped on his lap and pecked mischievously at his fingers.  "I suppose you think you're cute," he said, apparently addressing the bird.  "She transformed, of course."

            Autumn looked at the bird, then at Remus, then back at the bird.  "Into _that_?"

            Remus nodded.  "A sparrow – the third order of vampire powers.  She's gaining quickly, though Miache says the power growth will slow down soon.  She could have turned into a moth, or a mouse, but she says she's always afraid someone will step on her or something."  The sparrow flew up to peck Remus on the nose.  He tried not to smile.  "That's enough, Erin."

            The bird seemed to stretch, somehow, and suddenly, Erin was there.  She fell a few inches into Remus's lap.  "Oof!  I think I calculated that too high."  Remus gently but firmly moved her over to sit beside him.  She grinned at Autumn.  "Believe me now?"

            Autumn was silent for several seconds.  Then, "You turned into a bird."

            "A sparrow," Erin agreed.  "Like Remus said.  I can also turn invisible, but not for long enough to be impressive."

            "Why a sparrow?" Autumn asked.  "Why not a bat?"

            "I'm not powerful enough to be a bat," Erin said, turning a little red.  "I'm not very strong yet."

            "So anyway," Remus said, louder, "you do believe us now, right?"

            Autumn shivered.  "I guess… I guess I have to.  But how can you have been gone a year and a half?  It's only been a couple days back in America."

            "I don't understand, either," Erin said with a shrug.  "But vait till you see a calendar – I couldn't believe it.  Vhat year do you think it is?"

            Autumn frowned.  "2003, what else?"

            "1996, that's vhat else," Erin said.  "I even got a Muggle newspaper, to check it.  That's the year.  Somehow, ve lost seven years."

            Remus looked at Erin strangely.  "You never said anything about that."

            Erin shrugged.  "I didn't vant you to vorry.  Besides, Lianne didn't seem to think it vas important."

            "That doesn't mean much."  Remus let the subject go, but there was still a worried look in his eyes.

            "So we've been time-traveling?" Autumn asked.  "Is that it?"

            "I thought so for I vhile," Erin said, "but it doesn't seem like it.  There are some aspects of this that simple time-travel vouldn't explain."

            "Like what?" Autumn asked suspiciously.  "There's something you aren't telling me."

            "I'm just trying to figure out how to break this gently."  Erin sighed.  "I don't think I can.  I'll just say it.  Autumn, your home has disappeared."

            "It's what?"  Autumn blinked.  "What do you mean, disappeared?"

            "I mean people vent to look for it, but it vasn't there," Erin said.  "The same thing happened to me.  Vhen I tried to go home to America, my house vas just gone.  My mother, my father, everyvun – vanished."

            Autumn shook her head.  "Impossible."

            "But true," Erin told her sadly.  "I tried for months to find you and Hazel, to at least send a message somehow, but I couldn't.  My letters vere returned, my phone calls didn't go through, and the two times I traveled to Baltimore it vas as if everyvun I knew had simply left.  I gave up eventually.  I thought I'd never see either of you again."

            "What did you do, then?" Autumn asked.  "Have you been staying with Lianne?  Or – "  She stopped, as Erin and Remus both blushed a little.  "Oh.  _Oh_."

            "I did stay vith Li for a vhile," Erin said quickly.  "But – she travels so much now, there vas never anyvun there, and – vell – vell, that's not really important.  _You_ are the focal point here."

            "Ok."  Autumn was more than happy to change the subject.  "So… what's going to happen to me, if I can't go home?"

            "Well, considering that you managed to blow up an entire table of medical ingredients," Remus said dryly, "you'll probably need to be trained as a witch."

            Autumn stared at him.  "What?"

            "Dumbledore said you might have magical talent," Erin explained.  "That could be vhy you kept getting phone calls from Draco.  Ms. Anderson noticed you, anyvay, and assumed you vere vun of her students.  That's vhy she brought you here."

            "But… I can't be a witch," Autumn said, falling back on reason.  "I'd have noticed!"

            "Not necessarily," Erin said.  "Lianne didn't."

            "But…"  Autumn couldn't think of anything to say.  "But… I _can't_…"

            Remus handed something to Autumn.  She looked down at it blankly.  "It's that chocolate from Madam Pomfrey," he told her.  "It will make you feel better."

            "Is it magical?" Autumn asked suspiciously.

            Remus laughed.  "It doesn't need to be.  It's _chocolate_."

            Autumn didn't smile back, but she did eat her chocolate like a good girl.  And Remus was right – it _did_ make her feel better.

            "So she _is_ a witch," Anderson said thoughtfully.  "I don't know if that makes things easier or more complicated."

            "What do you mean?" Stellarum asked.  "She has to be trained now, doesn't she?  You can take her back to America and put her into the school system."

            "It isn't that simple," Anderson said, a trifle impatiently.  "I did check to see if that could be done, just in case Miss Vance did turn out magical, and do you know what I found out?  There are no records of this girl anywhere – none!  It isn't just her family that's vanished.  She could have appeared out of thin air.  The school system will never enroll her – she'll be lucky if the government will even acknowledge her!"

            "How unfortunate," Dumbledore said blandly.  "We shall simply have to keep her here."

            "Absolutely not," Snape growled.  "I've already voiced my opinions on this.  I'm not taking on the responsibility of a wearisome former Muggle just because you all feel sorry for her."

            "I have to agree, Albus," McGonagall said.  "It was hard enough with Lianne.  I don't want to go through that a second time.  Maybe if she joined the first years, or even waited until next September…?"

            "So you plan to leave zhis girl to be 'umiliated by being grouped wiz eleven-year-olds?"  Miache sniffed.  "And you say zhat vampires are monstrous.  _I_ vill train 'er, by myself if I must, zhough I am certain zhat some of ze _students_ vill 'ave ze compassion to 'elp me."

            "Now, Lady Miache, there's no need to be like that," Flitwick said indignantly.  "I'll be glad to help.  I didn't mind the extra tutoring."

            "You can count me in," Sprout added.

            "Me, too," Stellarum said.  "She shouldn't have much trouble with Muggle Studies, but I can help in other ways."

            "So can I, even if she doesn't want to take Ancient Runes," Deva said.

            Dumbledore smiled.  "It's good to see that so many of my professors have such generous hearts," he said.  "Then Miss Vance will be enrolled at Hogwarts."

            "If you're determined…"  McGonagall sighed.  "Do you plan to Sort her?"

            "I was considering a private ceremony," Dumbledore said.  "I don't want to disconcert her too much."

            "I am _not_ putting that thing on my head!"

            Erin sighed.  "It's not going to hurt you.  It's just going to Sort you."

            "I know what it's going to do!" Autumn raged.  "It will look at my thoughts and blab them to the world!"

            "That vas just in the movie," Erin said.

            "What movie?" Remus asked, unnoticed.

            "How do you know?  Maybe after the Sorting, it tells all the professors what the students think about!"

            "I assure you, Miss Vance, it doesn't," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling in amusement.  "Nor would most of the professors particularly care if it did."

            "I just don't like the idea of anyone knowing my thoughts."  Autumn glared at the Sorting Hat.  "Or anything."

            "It's not that bad," Blaise told her encouragingly.  He'd complained until he'd been given permission to watch Autumn be Sorted, since he was in the hospital wing in any case and could hear perfectly well, screen or no screen.  "All anyone hears is the name of your House."

            "_Today_, Autumn," Erin said, when the girl didn't make a move.  "Some of us have to leave before the sun rises."

            Autumn scowled, but she put on the Sorting Hat anyway.

            "Hello, Autumn Vance."

            Autumn had been expecting the voice, so she only nodded a little in acknowledgement and waited for the Hat to get on with it.

            "Do you know that you are the second young lady I've met who has had wild fantasies about being placed in Slytherin?"

            _Lianne,_ Autumn realized.  The Hat had to be referring to Lianne.  Li had always insisted she would make an excellent Slytherin, but Autumn had never been able to see it.  She'd always thought Lianne would fit better in – 

            "Hufflepuff, actually.  I'm sure she was very happy there.  But you, Miss Vance, seem to be a more accurate judge of your own abilities.  I see a sharp wit and a good mind, yes, but you don't have quite the hunger for knowledge that Ravenclaws look for.  And with that sarcasm, and the pleasure in brutal honesty… I think you ought to be in SLYTHERIN!"

            Autumn smirked as she took the Hat off.  Erin was laughing.  "I saw that vun coming," she said wryly.

            "You'll be in my House!"  Blaise was delighted.  "That's great!  We'll have classes together!"

            "Not exactly," Dumbledore said.  "Miss Vance, you're going to be tutored specially by Lady Miache, as well as some of the other teachers.  You're several years behind where you ought to be, but these professors have agreed to teach you separately from the other students."

            "Miache?"  Remus raised his eyebrows.  "I didn't think she would care one way or the other."

            "Oh, I don't know," Erin said thoughtfully.  "I think she still feels guilty that she couldn't stop Prissy.  She looks out for me, sometimes, and I guess Autumn got included in that."

            "Maybe."  Remus still looked a little doubtful.

            "Well, Miss Vance, you are now an official student here," Dumbledore said to Autumn, smiling.  "If you don't mind spending the night here in the hospital wing, I will introduce you tomorrow at breakfast.  You'll have the day to get magical supplies from Hogsmeade, and on Monday you can begin your schooling."

            "Ok, I guess.  It doesn't really matter that much."  Autumn turned to Erin.  "Are you going to leave?"

            Erin nodded reluctantly.  "I have to be back home by sunrise," she reminded Autumn.  "Technically, I could still be out in the sun if I had magical shields and about three bottles of sunscreen on, but I don't vant to risk it if I don't have to."

            Autumn hesitated, then quickly hugged Erin, much to the older girl's surprise.  "You have no idea how worried about you I was," she said quietly.  She wiped at her eyes before pulling away.  "Write to me, or something.  And tell Lianne to write, too."

            Erin grinned.  "Sure.  You'll like Li's birds.  They're pretty crazy."  Her smile faded a little.  "You'll tell me if you're doing ok, right?  I'll try to come visit you later in the year, to make sure you've settled in properly, but let me know if anything happens before then."

            Autumn gave her first official Slytherin smile.  What she said was, "Of course."

            What she thought was, _No way in hell._

**Chapter 32**

            "So you've heard what's going on, right, Draco?" Pansy said, sitting next to him at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

            Draco eyed Pansy tolerantly.  "What do you mean?"

            "About the Muggle girl," Pansy said, as though it should have been obvious.  "You must have heard."

            "Heard what?"  Draco's good mood vanished.

            "Apparently, she's not so much of a Muggle as everyone thought," Pansy reported.  "She's a witch – a Mudblood.  The Americans didn't notice her for some reason, so she's going to enroll here."

            "At Hogwarts?"  Draco couldn't believe it.  Just when he'd thought he might have managed to escape this scandal, _this_ had to happen.  There was no way she'd fail to mention that they'd been phone partners, not if she was going to be here permanently.

            Of course, if she was a Muggle-born witch, rather than a Muggle herself, that might make the worst of Draco's problems disappear.  His father would still be seriously displeased, of course, but he was unlikely to leave lasting wounds for this offense.  Particularly if Draco managed to tell the story so that it appeared that she'd simply been harassing him.

            Also, there was the wild card of the Witness.  The way Lucius referred to her made it clear that she was a very important person.  He would certainly hesitate to hurt Draco's chances of impressing her.

            Draco was distracted from his thoughts when the room gradually fell silent.  He looked up.  Dumbledore had stood up, and was preparing to speak.

            "I congratulate you all on being awake on a Sunday morning," the Headmaster said cheerfully, "and I hope that you will convey this news to your peers who were not so fortunate.  I have two announcements this morning.  First, I hope that the American students have enjoyed their time at Hogwarts so far – "  Here Dumbledore was interrupted by applause, ranging from polite to enthusiastic.  Draco did not join in.

            "I will take that to mean you did."  Dumbledore smiled brightly.  "We shall have to show our guests a British wizarding school, before we must allow them to return to their native country.  All of them, except for one, that is – which brings me to my second announcement.

            "Those of you whose grandparents attended Hogwarts – " several Purebloods smirked, " – may remember that the transfer student program was ended at Hogwarts due to a lack of interest.  Overall, this is still the case, but we are fortunate enough to receive a young lady from America into our student body.  She was unaware that she had any magic at all until yesterday, so she will have a unique class schedule.  Her name is Miss Autumn Vance, and last night she was privately Sorted into Slytherin."

            Draco – as well as several other anti-Muggle Slytherins – couldn't suppress a groan.  This was just wonderful.  Wasn't it bad enough that the girl had to be in the same school as him?  Did she have to be in the same House as well?

            "I trust that Miss Vance will be accepted into Hogwarts as warmly as the rest of you were," Dumbledore continued.  "For myself, I would like to offer her a most enthusiastic welcome."  He proceeded to applaud, cautiously followed by the other professors.

            This was apparently some sort of signal, because a girl entered through the side door closest to the Slytherin table.  Draco scrutinized her, along with everyone else in the Great Hall.  So this was Autumn, was it?  Draco sniffed in disapproval.  Her hair was entirely too curly, with little black ringlets going every which way.  And not only was she dressed like a Muggle, her clothes were all wrinkled.  It looked like she'd worn them two days in a row.  Maybe she didn't _own_ any other clothes.

            Autumn approached the Slytherins, to all appearances perfectly confident.  Draco's lip curled back.  He'd change that.

            "That seat's taken," he said coldly, when Autumn headed for the nearest empty chair.

            She looked up at him, startled.  It took Draco a moment to realize that she must recognize his voice.

            "You – "  She stopped whatever she'd been going to say, seeing the hostility in his face.  Draco hoped that she might be frightened off, but no such luck.  "I don't see anyone sitting here."

            The fifth year sitting across from the seat in question immediately propped his feet in the chair.  Autumn looked down at them, then moved two seats down to the next empty chair.

            "That one's taken, too," Pansy spoke up.  "In fact, all these seats are taken."

            "Really?  How convenient," Autumn said, eyes narrowed.  "And here I was thinking that you were just being spiteful."

            "Oh, would you look at that?"  Asin giggled.  "It bites!"

            Draco took his cue from Asin.  "Don't pay any attention to it," he commanded dispassionately.  "Eventually it will go away."

            "Or maybe I won't."  Autumn walked back towards Draco, at the end of the table.  "I bet I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that I'm just some terrified Muggle who'll run back to America crying for her mommy after a few pathetic taunts.  Well, guess what, Mr. Draco Malfoy – I don't scare that easily.  And if you," she looked at the two girls, "think you can get rid of me with a couple overused tricks and clichéd sayings, I hope for your sakes that this school offers remedial classes."

            Asin smiled brightly.  "You're right," she declared.  "I'm dreadfully sorry.  I never should have insulted you to your face."

            Autumn hesitated.  Draco could see that she wasn't used to dealing with Slytherin personalities yet.  Good.  Any other sixth year Slytherin would have known not to trust anyone who suddenly became sweet and kind after being vicious a moment ago.  Perhaps Draco could take advantage of that naivety.

            "Right, then."  Autumn seemed to take the comment at face value, and turned away to go to a seat.

            And fell flat on her face.

            "Oops," Asin said with a nasty laugh.

            Autumn scrambled to her feet, her face red and her expression boding extremely ill for Asin.  Not that she'd get a chance, of course.  Asin was a trained – well, partially trained – witch, and she had her wand out and ready.  Draco could see several teachers hurrying to break up the approaching fight, but they'd waited too long.  They wouldn't be able to get there before Asin did something deliciously dreadful to Autumn.

            "I wouldn't, if I were you."

            Tabitha laid a hand on Asin's shoulder.  Draco scowled.  Just when things could really have gotten interesting.

            Asin glowered at Tabitha, but she put her wand away.  Not only was the unwritten Slytherin law against her for showing dissent where others could see, Tabitha was a prefect.  It would be very embarrassing indeed for Slytherin to lose points from the sixth year Slytherin prefect.

            "Why don't you come sit at the other end of the table?" Tabitha suggested sweetly.  "We have plenty of chairs down there – and the atmosphere is much more pleasant."

            Autumn glanced from Asin to Tabitha then, to Draco's surprise, at him, before making up her mind.  "Sure.  It can't be worse than this side of the table."

            After Tabitha had rescued Autumn, she introduced the new girl to Slytherin after Slytherin on the "friendlier" half of the table.  Friendly compared to Draco's side, anyway.  One girl, Millicent Bulstrode, kept scowling at no one in particular, and Edmund Rookwood only seemed interested in copying Tracey Davis's Arithmancy homework.

            Finally, Tracey sighed.  "If you want the wrong answers that much, go ahead," she said, tossing a roll of parchment at Edmund with a shrug.  "I just made up the answers anyway."

            "Is it hard?" Autumn asked, catching a glimpse of some very complicated-looking symbols Edmund was now busily copying out.

            "It's _boring_," Tracey said.  "I should have taken Wizarding Laws instead.  At least that class doesn't have much homework to bore me with."  She went back to the book she'd been studying.

            "Oh."  Autumn wasn't sure what to say.  She was feeling very overwhelmed by all this – magic, a new school, a new _country_ – and none of these people seemed inclined to help her cope.  Tabitha had lost interest once Autumn had been introduced, and was now deep in conversation with two other students.

            "You'll get used to it."

            Autumn looked up, startled.  Tracey had closed her book, and was smiling slightly.  "What?"

            "The school," Tracey said.  "I think I know how you feel.  I'm a Muggle-born, too, and there aren't many in Slytherin.  Halfbloods, yes.  Purebloods, you'd better believe it.  But Muggle-borns are much rarer."

            "Because Slytherin is anti-Muggle," Autumn said.

            Tracey gave her an odd look.  "Not exactly.  That group over on the other end of the table is, but the rest of us don't particularly care.  I've met some Ravenclaws who aren't exactly thrilled with Muggles – even a Gryffindor or two.  We're Sorted based on shared personality traits, not shared opinions."

            "That would get awfully boring," Autumn had to agree.

            "So how do you know about the supposed Slytherin prejudices, anyway?" Tracey asked curiously.  "I thought you just came over from America."

            "I did," Autumn said, thinking fast.  "But I was talking to this boy in the hospital wing – Blaise Zabini – "

            "Oh, _Blaise_."  Tracey smirked.  "Figures.  He parrots every anti-Muggle prejudice Draco and Pansy feed him.  I see how you got those ideas."

            There was a whooshing sound overhead.  Autumn looked up apprehensively, but Tracey wasn't alarmed.  "It's just the owl post," she said.  "It's not even as bad as most days, since today is Sunday."

            That was not particularly reassuring.  Autumn resisted the urge to shield her head as the owls swooped down to deliver the mail.  Some of them, seeing that the letters' recipients were not present, flew back out again, presumably to wait in the Owlery.  The rest separated to the various students, and a few to the teachers.

            "Oh, look!"  Millicent suddenly became much more cheerful.  "Someone's getting a Howler!"

            The Slytherins sitting around her followed her gaze.  A very large black owl was indeed carrying a bright red envelope, leaving a faint trail of smoke.  It was heading directly for the Gryffindor table.

            "Good Lord, is that going to Potter?"  Edmund gaped.  "Who'd send him a Howler?  I thought he lived with Muggles!"

            "Who has a bird like that?" Tabitha wondered, frowning, as the owl dropped the envelope in front of a boy with dark hair, who Autumn assumed that he was the famous Harry Potter.

            Potter clearly knew exactly what he was receiving, and opened it immediately.

            "_POTTER_."

            The Great Hall fell silent at the opening words, with only a few murmurs of confusion at the relatively calm tone of the Howler.  It was decidedly different from the usual shrieks and screeches – although quite definitely more menacing.

            "_I HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED THIS YEAR'S REPRIEVE.  IT ENDS TODAY.  BE PREPARED – THIS YEAR YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME UNSCATHED._"

            As the Howler burnt to a cinder, frantic whispers broke out all through the Great Hall.  Everyone knew that there was only one person who would send Harry Potter a message like that.

            Autumn happened to look up at the staff table during the spreading panic.  Dumbledore was staring, not at Potter, but at the Slytherin table.  And he did not look pleased.

Author's Note – Lovely welcome to Hogwarts for Autumn.  How very pleasant.  Sorry about the distinct lack of Hazel in this chapter.

Disclaimer – Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling.  The song lyrics are from "Neverland" by Heather Alexander.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

Phédre (Harry fan?  Wow… didn't pick up on that.  But Hazel's actually my favorite, too.), San-San, BlacKat, Jessica (Hazel is definitely on the psychotic side.  And you noticed Su!  I had to put her in – only four letters… ^_^), Gypsy Malfoy (Yes!  I love Mercedes Lackey!  I'm so glad you noticed!  "Treyvan" is definitely a nod to her work.), Nycgal (Serena has pretty much given up on character status.  She likes being a general muse, though she and Lianne sometimes get into catfights about who has Sirius-rights. ^_^), Yummy-oh, Waterfall (Yep, sparks are flying between Autumn and Draco…), Tera Earth, Fluffy the Teddy Bear Slayer, Bertie Bott, Kalika Aryn (Portkeys are wonderful things.  I would use one every morning to get out of bed and to the computer if I could. ^_^), Hattie Rabb, Purple-Nail-Polish-Person (Yep, it is now Draco's turn to shine.  Potter gets entirely too much glory for his own good.), Skylar, CG Anna Marie (Yes, Hazel definitely has some issues.  But I don't know… I don't think I'd like her mother too much…), Cho Chang, AvalonMaiden, Unicorn777, Piper Petermeier (Yes, Lianne was the exception, rather than the rule.  I think most people would tend to be more like Erin… though Autumn is a bit extreme.), Kat6528, Crazy Courtney.

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	20. Oneupmanship

Dreaming of You

Author's Note – I'd just like to say again that any and all events mentioned in _Order of the Phoenix_ do not apply in this story. I've officially gone AU. This story branches off the moment Harry steps off the Hogwarts Express after his fourth year. And I've decided to go through with my original plot line, so there may end up being contradictions to some of the information we got in book 5. If so, please just ignore it. Thanks!

And thank you to Merry, my beta! *waves*

**_Part 19 – One-upmanship_**

_Neverland's well protected, against all time and age  
All schooling's been rejected, I'm not a parrot in a cage  
Your minds are overrated, your spirits all in are cowed  
Here I'm not tolerated and my freedom's not allowed.  
  
_

**Chapter 33**

            "So do you know who sent that Howler yet?"

            Judging by Snape's glare and Deva's sigh, Draco assumed that the answer was no.

            "That is enough, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said. His harassed tone of voice told Draco quite a bit about what had been happening among the Hogwarts faculty members in the hour or so since the Howler had caused chaos in the Great Hall. "We still have over half of Slytherin House to question, and I am not in the mood to put up with your smart remarks."

            "Do you have any idea who might have sent it?" Deva asked. "As a joke or something, maybe?"

            "Yes. I sent it, and I plan to murder Potter in his sleep tonight. All I have to do is torture the passwords out of Longbottom, and I'm set." Draco rolled his eyes at the two professors' unamused expressions. "Oh, lighten up, it was a joke."

            "It wasn't very funny," Deva said.

            "Maybe you just didn't catch the humor." Draco scowled, uninterested in the fact that Deva seemed quite hurt. "Can I go yet?"

            "Not until you answer the question seriously," Snape told him. "Stop sniveling," he added, transferring his glare to Deva.

            Draco smirked. Normally, he didn't mind Deva – her Ancient Runes class actually wasn't half bad, and she didn't seem to dislike him quite as much as some of the other professors – but he was in a rotten mood today, and he felt like causing some pain. This was especially sweet because he rather suspected that Deva had a crush on Snape – she was always staring at him when she thought no one was paying attention. Disturbing as that was, it made him twice as pleased to know that he'd gotten Snape to snap at her.

            "I don't know anything," Draco said, shrugging. "Some idiot with too much time on his hands. Ask Potter, maybe he did it to get attention."

            "Other professors are questioning the Gryffindors," Snape said evenly. "Go now – we're through here. If you should think of anything else – "

            "I know where to find you." Draco got up, and left the room.

            "Well?" Pansy had been waiting for him outside the room, and the two of them headed back for the Slytherin Common Room together.

            Draco wasn't prepared to reveal anything just yet. "Well what?"

            "Well, who do you think sent it?" Pansy asked impatiently. "Do you think it was – y'know, _her_?"

            Her – oh. Draco realized Pansy must mean the Witness. "Don't be stupid," he sneered. "That was a man's voice."

            "She could have changed it," Pansy said, though a shadow of doubt now colored her words.

            Draco couldn't believe the girl's idiocy. Hadn't she been looking at Potter? He had been, and he'd noticed one thing right away – Potter recognized that voice. Unless the Witness could alter her voice to sound enough like the Dark Lord's to fool Potter – very unlikely – that Howler had been genuine. Besides, it reeked of the Dark Lord's style. The man had always had a taste for the theatrical. Anyone who knew anything about the Dark Lord's first reign would know that.

            Draco was about to make a cutting remark to that effect, but he stopped suddenly. Why should he give Pansy any information? With the Witness around, even though no one knew who she was, anyone seeking the Dark Lord's notice would be in competition for the Witness's favor. He had no reason to give Pansy an edge, and every reason to conceal information from her.

            "I suppose anything's possible," Draco said instead, gently manipulating Pansy's mind back onto the wrong train of thought. "After all, you never know."

            "Where are we going?" Autumn had to hurry to keep up with Miache as the vampire woman strode down a path away from the school. _How come she's moving twice as fast as I am, but she seems half as tired?_ Autumn wondered irritably, speeding up yet again.

            "'Ogsmeade," Miache said.

            Autumn waited a moment for more information. "Why?" she prompted, when it became clear none would be offered.

            "To get your school supplies, of course," Miache said. "Vhy else?"

            "Oh." Autumn frowned. "Doesn't the school provide them?"

            "No." Miache sniffed. "Vhy vould zhey?"

            "Well… that's how it works in America…"

            "You're at a boarding school now. You buy your own supplies 'ere."

            A very distressing thought occurred to Autumn. "You know, I don't actually have any money," she said, worried.

            "Yes, you 'ave," Miache said calmly.

            Autumn stared at the woman. "No," she repeated, more loudly, "I haven't. I think I ought to know."  
            "You're mistaken," Miache said. "You in'erited a generous sum of money vhen your Uncle Marvin died."

            "My _what_?" Autumn blinked. "I haven't got an Uncle Marvin."

            "Not anymore, you 'aven't," Miache agreed.

            "That's not what I meant!" Autumn snapped. "I've never had an Uncle Marvin. I don't know what you're talking about."

            "Really. Zhat's extremely interesting." Miache considered this for a moment. "Vell, I shouldn't mention it if I vere you. Wizzout zhis money, you really don't 'ave anyzhing."

            "It isn't stealing?" Autumn asked warily.

            Miache shrugged. "Eh. Might be. Turn ze money back in, zhen, if it bozzers you zhat much. But buy your school supplies first. I'm not paying for zhem."

            Autumn's frown deepened as she followed Miache on the road to Hogsmeade. This wasn't a philosophy she'd been exposed to before – but it did make sense. Hogwarts was a boarding school. That meant she had to pay to attend, and if she turned this money back in, she couldn't afford it. And where would she go then? She'd have no money, no home, no education. Maybe by the time anyone worked out what mistake had happened with this Marvin person, she'd have finished school and gotten a job of her own, or at least started a new life. Whoever this money really belonged to, could he need it more than she did?

            "Zhis is it," Miache said, interrupting Autumn's internal debate. "First you 'ave to wizdraw part of your in'eritance, zhen you'll need robes, books, equipment, and a vand."

            "So we're going to Gringotts?" Autumn asked.

            Miache glanced at Autumn, a little too casually. "You've 'eard of it, zhen?"

            Autumn hesitated. "A little."

            "I see," Miache said. "Yes, ze first stop is a branch of Gringotts."

            It turned out to be exceedingly dull. The goblins required Autumn to fill out page after page of forms – she had to register for a Gringotts account, apply to have her funds transferred, register a second time with the American division of Gringotts once the goblins found out she was technically American, and then repeat the application to have her funds transferred through her American account into the British account. Once all that was done, Autumn was outraged to learn that it would take at least another hour before she could even get her money.

            "Calm down," Miache advised. "I've no intention of sitting around 'ere for anozzer hour. You can be measured at Gladrags. By ze time zhey've fitted your new robes, ze order should 'ave gone through."

            As it turned out, it hadn't. Eventually, Miache put Autumn's robes on hold and went to see exactly what was taking the goblins so long.

            "Well, aren't you the lucky one?"

            Autumn looked up at the Gladrags employee who'd been assisting her, startled by the heavy irony. "Huh?"

            "Getting to go places with _that_ woman?" The lady's expression was somewhere between pitying and derisive. "How in the world did you get stuck with her?"

            "She works at Hogwarts," Autumn said coldly, not liking this woman's tone.

            "Lots of people work at Hogwarts," the woman said, shrugging. "Not like that one – or didn't you know?"

            "You mean that she's a vampire?" Autumn raised an eyebrow. "Of course I know. I'm not stupid."

            "Of course you're not – you've been accepted to Hogwarts, haven't you?" the woman said. "That isn't what I meant. That Lady Miache isn't just any vampire. Rumor has it," she leaned forward, lowering her voice, "that she's from the same tribe as the vampires who attacked the school last year."

            Autumn frowned. No one had mentioned this before. "Vampires attacked the school last year?"

            "Hasn't it gotten around to America yet?" the woman said. "Well, they did. They flew right over the village – it was horrible. And everyone says that Lady Miache – " She stopped.

            "Zhat I vhat?" Miache entered the shop, smiling pleasantly. "Zhat I vas ze only vun 'oo vould take zhis job after Miss Delacour quit in hysterics? Or zhat I've sworn zhat ze next vampire to attack ze castle vill be dust? Do tell me vhat 'everyvun' says about me, madam. I am most intrigued."

            "Oh – oh – nothing," the woman said, going pale. "They don't say anything about you – they never talk about you – and I don't listen to that sort of gossip anyway – "

            "Very good." Miache nodded haughtily. "Gossip is a dreadful 'abit to get into. You should encourage ze rest of your friends to drop it as vell – I should 'ate to zhink zhat somezhing… dreadful… might 'appen to zhem."

            Ignoring the woman's hasty reassurances that no one she knew would ever dream of gossiping about the Hogwarts staff, Miache calmly paid for Autumn's new robes, and swept out of the shop.

            "Stupid creature," Miache muttered. She handed Autumn a large bag. "Zhat is ze part of your in'eritance you vill be spending today. Ze goblins send zheir apologies for ze delay."

            Autumn frowned. Judging from what she knew of the Gringotts goblins, this seemed unlikely. "Really?"

            Miache smiled grimly. "If zhey know vhat's good for zhem, zhey do."

            Autumn decided to let that subject go. Whatever the delay had been, Miache had clearly dealt with it.

            Miache, as Autumn discovered through the course of the day, was not much of a conversationalist. Her only comments in Dervish and Banges were to bully the hapless store manager into deciding that Hogwarts transfer students ought to get a discount on the – according to Miache – vastly overpriced books, scales, cauldron, and telescope.

            "Don't I need a wand?" Autumn asked as they left.

            "Not from zhere, you don't," Miache said. "Unless you vant to pay twice ze price for 'alf ze quality."

            "Then we're going somewhere else?" Autumn asked. "Ollivanders?"

            Miache raised an eyebrow. "As far as I know, Mr. Ollivander's shop is in Diagon Alley," she said. "I am not taking you all ze vay zhere just to buy you a name brand vand." She turned down an alley next to Zonko's. "'Ere."

            Autumn looked around dubiously. "Here? It's kind of… deserted…"

            Miache sniffed. "Better zhan zhat crowded shop," she said, opening a door near the back of one of the buildings. Autumn had assumed it would lead into the back of the other shop, but this dim room, smoky with incense, didn't look much like a joke store, even the backroom.

            "Who comes?" a voice croaked from the thickest part of the smoke. Autumn could just make out the outline of a figure, silhouetted by flickering candlelight. "Who comes, to seek the dark and terrible mysteries – "

            "It's Miache Sanguinis, you old bat," Miache snapped. "Stop zhat nonsense at vunce, ve aren't 'ere to 'ave our fortunes told."

            "Oh. Good." The hidden speaker immediately began waving aside the majority of the smoke. "I've run out of tea leaves, anyway, and no one believes a psychic without physical props." She turned out to be a woman fighting the onset of middle age with expertly applied cosmetics, wearing a bright pink shirt over jeans, rather than robes. "What do you want, then?"

            "She needs a vand." Miache nodded at Autumn. "Sell 'er vun."

            "A va- oh, a wand. Right." The woman nodded sagely. "Well, I don't really do that sort of thing anymore – but," she added hastily, catching sight of Miache's fangs glinting in the candlelight, "I suppose I could make an exception. Since I like you so much." She turned to Autumn. "So, you must be the transfer student."

            "How'd you know that?" Autumn drew back, suspicious.

            "With all the new and exciting things that go on in this town?" The woman rolled her eyes, and began shuffling through the drawers of a desk that had become visible as the smoke dissipated. "You're going to be the hottest gossip item for at least another month – unless Rosmerta makes another dramatic conquest, of course." She pulled out a tape measure. "Here we go." She tapped it with her wand, and it began measuring Autumn of its own accord. "So your name is – what, Spring?"

            "Autumn. Autumn Vance." Autumn stiffened as the tape measure wrapped itself around various parts of her body.

            "Nice to meet you. Call me Elberta." She noticed Autumn's extreme discomfort. "Oh, don't mind that, it won't hurt you. See, we're done." She caught the tape measure in midair. "Now, let's see what we can find for you today."

            "Do you make wands?" Autumn asked.

            Miache snorted. "Stop that, Miache, it was a perfectly reasonable question," Elberta said, opening a wardrobe and rummaging through it. She leaned in up to her waist, and her voice got muffled. By Autumn's calculations, either Elberta was halfway into the next room over, or there was something fishy about that wardrobe. "Yes, I make wands – or I used to, anyway. Ollivander taught me, but we had a bit of a disagreement as to exactly how wands ought to be made. He's very traditional, you know. Or maybe you don't, if you're just here from America." She resurfaced, juggling about a dozen boxes. "Anyway, I started experimenting a little with the formula, and – to make a long story short – he got mad, threw me out, and I decided my true calling was to exploit Hogsmeade tourists as Elberta the Extraordinary."

            "Um." Autumn looked from Miache to Elberta, wondering whether or not she should ask. Her curiosity got the better of her. "What are you talking about?"

            "I'm a psychic," Elberta explained. She dumped her boxes onto the desk, causing a flurry of papers to scatter across the floor. "Low level member of the Seers' Guild. Most witches and wizards have no talent whatsoever for divination. I've only got a drop or so – just enough to get me officially into the Guild. So when the magic tour bus comes around, which happens a couple times a month, the visitors are looking for the authentic experience of a wizarding town, including the resident psychic."

            "Meaning she's a fraud," Miache added sourly.

            "Yep." Elberta was entirely unashamed. "They want the future, they can go to a diviner or a seer. They want entertaining bullshit, they come here." She peered at Autumn consideringly, then handed her a wand. "Spruce and dragon heartstring, try that."

            Autumn waved it cautiously. Elberta shook her head. "Nope, nothing. How about unicorn hair and alder?" She grinned when this one, too, failed. "Didn't think so. Elm and phoenix feather? This one's nice, good at illusions."

            This wand produced a small sizzle, getting Autumn's hopes up, but it seemed to be a fluke. She sighed in disappointment. Elberta, however, seemed thrilled. "Guess not. Great."

            "Why great?" Autumn demanded. "What aren't you telling me?"

            Elberta's grin widened. "How would you feel about getting a very special, one-of-a-kind wand?"

            "How so?" Autumn said guardedly.

            "Well, you seem to have a affinity for bird wands," Elberta said, "but I'm going to bet the phoenix feather isn't the one for you." Her eyes gleamed silver as she pulled out a fourth wand. "This," she said, "is one of my unique wands. Ollivander thought he'd convinced me to quit making them – but he didn't. I've still got them, and I've got the technique for making them." She stroked the wand lovingly with a single finger. "Laurel wood. Ten inches." She smiled. "Diricrawl feather."

            Autumn blinked. "What's a Diricrawl?"

            "A magical bird," Elberta said. "It's like the phoenix. Sort of. In a way." She shook her head, and smiled brightly. "Anyway, its feathers make very nice wands, no matter what Ollivander thinks. This one's very good for defensive work," she added cajolingly.

            Autumn took it dubiously, and waved it. Nothing happened. Elberta's face fell. "But I was so sure," she said, devastated. She snatched up another box. "Here – try this one – "

            Autumn barely had it in her hand an instant before Elberta all but threw another one at her. "No? This – or maybe this – "

            "Hold on!" Autumn snapped, trying to keep all the wands straight.

            "Mooncalf hair, maybe," Elberta muttered, ignoring the girl. "Or kelpie mane?" She thrust two more at Autumn, then rushed back to the wardrobe for more boxes. "Not to worry, dear, I'll find you the perfect wand! No bald phoenixes or murdered dragons for you!"

            "But – " Autumn shot a helpless glance at Miache. "Do something!" Miache simply raised an eyebrow, and didn't comment. Autumn glared at her, and threw the four wands she was holding onto the table. Three more rolled off. Autumn gave a snort of disgust, and bent to pick them up.

            "Whoa!"

            Autumn jumped back, dropping the wand she'd grabbed. Lime green sparks had exploded from it as soon as she'd touched it, and it was now producing a cloud of foul-smelling orange smoke.

            Elberta spun around, and an enormous grin spread across her face. "You found one!" she cried, delighted. "Which was it?" She picked it up to examine it. "Pear wood and Fwooper feather, twelve inches. Oh, this one's _very_ nice. Wonderful for curses. I'm sure you'll just love it!"

            "What's a Fwooper?" Autumn asked, hoping she'd get a bit more explanation that she had about the Diricrawl.

            "Oh, just another bird," Elberta said dismissively. "A magical one. Quite magical. Its feathers give lovely results in all the wands I've tried it in."

            "Great." Autumn looked down at the wand. It was still producing orange smoke, which seemed to be turning the purple carpet to the ugly brown of burnt clay. "Should be interesting."

            After paying for the wand and leaving Elberta's shop, Autumn immediately said, "What's a Fwooper?"

            "A magical bird," Miache said, smirking. After a moment, she elaborated. "Its song drives people insane."

            "So my wand is for crazy people? That's lovely." Autumn grimaced. "Is that everything I need, then?"

            "Everyzhing you need, yes," Miache said. "'Owever, you might as vell take zhis time to get somezhing just because you vant it. You may not get anozzer chance to shop for a vhile."

            Autumn started to say she'd had enough shopping for the day – then stopped. All her possessions had been at her house in America. She wouldn't be able to get them back. Maybe she should take advantage of this opportunity.

            She didn't want candy or anything, of course. Nothing that frivolous. And there was no point in buying magical books until she knew more about the magical world. Besides, there was a whole library at Hogwarts that she hadn't even begun to explore yet. Autumn turned in a full circle, considering the shops carefully. She rejected the post office… Zonko's… the touristy gift shop… the pet store – the pet store? Autumn frowned. She'd never been allowed a real pet, since her father had been allergic to all things furry and feathered.

            "Let's go there," Autumn said, pointing at Potiva's Pet Shop.

            Miache shrugged and headed in. As soon as the vampire crossed the threshold, all the animals in the shop fell silent. A nervous-looking young man approached quickly, abandoning his other customers. "Can I help you?" he asked. To his credit, he didn't stammer at all.

            "Um… yeah," Autumn said, drawing his attention to her, away from Miache. "I'd like to buy a pet."

            "That's good," the young man – Tim, according to his cheerful nametag – said. "Er… any particular kind of pet?"

            "Not really, no," Autumn said, after a moment's thought. "Help me decide."

            "Um." Tim looked as though he was going to protest this, but then he caught Miache's eye and swallowed hard. "Well… are you a Hogwarts student?"

            A grin spread across Autumn's face. "Yes."

            "Well, then how about an owl?" Tim suggested. "You can – you know, write to your family at home."

            Autumn's grin disappeared. "I haven't got any family."

            Tim's gaze flickered from Autumn to Miache, then to Miache's fangs. "Er… right. Maybe not an owl, then. How about a toad? They're bound to come back into fashion any time now – "

            "I don't like toads," Autumn said flatly.

            "Or not." Tim gulped. "A cat, then? Cats are always nice. We have some nice shorthairs, very friendly, right over this way." He led them to a large structure, and lifted out a little black kitten. "What do you think?"

            "It's – " Autumn sneezed. "I – " She sneezed again. And again. Hurriedly, Tim took the cat back. "My dad was allergic," Autumn explained, backing away from the cats. "I guess I am, too."

            "Well, those are all the usual school pets," Tim said. "But maybe you'd like something more unusual," he added quickly. "We have rats – rabbits – snakes – ferrets – fish – "

            "Wait, wait," Autumn said, holding up a hand. "What was that?"

            "Er… fish?"

            "No, before that." Autumn grinned. "You have ferrets?"

            "Oh, yes!" Tim nodded enthusiastically. "Lots of them, in just about every color you can imagine. We have an illusionist who – "

            "Can I see them?" Autumn asked.

            "Of course! Right away!" Tim hastened to another display case, where three or four ferrets were playing in each of the many compartments. "Here they are. See any you like?"

            Autumn's first instinct was to pick a white one. After all, it could be Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret. It would serve the bastard right, after the way he'd acted.

            But that wasn't exactly something she'd want to wish on a poor innocent ferret. Besides, the white ones looked like skinny rats.

            "The grey one," Autumn said finally, pointing. "It's kind of cute."

            "Right. The grey one." Tim opened the compartment and lifted out the grey ferret. "This is a silver. See the mask? He's very friendly. Want to hold him?" He handed the ferret to Autumn. It – he – wiggled around, then started trying to crawl up her arm.

            Autumn smiled. "I like him."

            "If you're sure, then maybe you'd like to hear about some of the tricks our trained ferrets can – or not," Tim backtracked, taking another look at Miache. "Er… I'm sure this ferret will make you a great pet."

            He couldn't sell Autumn the ferret and ferret supplies quickly enough. At the counter, while Autumn was paying, Tim started to mention a book about keeping ferrets that might come in handy – then decided that it would make a great gift for a new Hogwarts student. Especially one accompanied by a vampire.

            As they returned to the castle, Autumn had to struggle to carry both her new pet and her school supplies. Eventually, Miache sighed, and took all the packages.

            Autumn stared. They were heavy packages, but Miache was carrying them as if they contained feathers and air. "Thanks," she said at last. Miache nodded expressionlessly, and they continued in silence.

            "Nothing." Snape scowled at the desk in Dumbledore's office. It was too full of the Headmaster's little toys. How Dumbledore got any work done in here was a mystery.

            "I can't believe none of the Slytherins knew anything about that Howler," Sprout said, frowning. "Not to sound judgmental, of course, but you'd think they'd have heard something."

            "Of course they'd heard something," Snape said witheringly. "They know exactly what's going on. They just won't tell us."

            "Well, I, for one, think this is outrageous," Anderson said. She turned on Dumbledore. "How dare you tell me to bring innocent children here when this school is under attack!"

            "One Howler is hardly an attack," McGonagall said.

            "Oh, no?" Anderson said. "Because that Howler sounded an awful lot like an attack to me. I want reassurance that my students will be safe here!"

            "You have it," Dumbledore said calmly. "This school is the safest place in all of Britain."

            "Hah!" Anderson was unmollified. "If this – _person_ – can send in Howlers, what else can he send in?"

            "The mail delivery system is admittedly one of the weaker points of security," Dumbledore said. "Since owls deliver messages of ill-intent without any malicious feelings of their own, they do not trigger the guard spells. Professor Flitwick is working on a way to determine what message an owl is carrying, but until then our choices are to either stop all owls, or to let all of them through."

            "Then stop all of them!" Anderson snapped.

            "I don't think the situation calls for that," Dumbledore said. "Be reasonable, Juliet. If an owl were enchanted to be dangerous, it would be caught by the wards against natural predators. If it were to carry a message cursed badly enough to do real damage, the wards against Dark magic would stop it. The worst that can be done now is harassment – annoying, yes, but hardly a threat to anyone's life."

            "I'm sorry to say that I do not agree," Anderson said. "You suggested this exchange as a way to promote understanding and fellowship between the youth of our countries. I don't see that there will be much of either if this Dark Lord of yours keeps terrifying my students with threatening messages." She stood up. "We are going back to America as soon as I can manage it – today, if possible. I shall inform my students now."

            Dumbledore watched the Headmistress storm from the room. "I suppose it was inevitable," he murmured. He looked around at the Heads of the Houses. "And what about our students? How are they responding to this threat?"

            "Several students wanted to know if they can expect to be murdered in their beds," Sinistra said. "I told them not to be silly."

            "I'm sure it was a great comfort to them to hear such a compassionate response," Dumbledore said gravely, his eyes twinkling. "What about the Hufflepuffs? How are they dealing with the situation?"

            "Hysterics, probably," Snape said.

            Sprout gave him a dark look. "As a matter of fact, they are dealing extremely well," she said proudly. "Only three of them had to go to the hospital wing for shock treatment."

            "That's very good," Dumbledore said, smiling. "And I assume the Gryffindors have been equally brave?"

            "All but Longbottom," McGonagall said with a sigh. "But Miss Granger managed to get his wand away from him before he did too much damage."

            "I'd noticed that," Dumbledore said. He looked at Snape. "And the Slytherins?"

            "They're hiding something," Snape said, "but I can't see what. I'm certain it has something to do with those letters half of them got from their parents at the same time. Some sort of warning, maybe."

            "I doubt it," Dumbledore said. "They all looked quite surprised when the Howler arrived. Some of them have the acting skills to fake it, of course, but not the entire House. No, my guess is that Voldemort has revived the role of the Witness."

            Snape looked at Dumbledore sharply. "Another spy in the Ministry? It can't be Rookwood again, he's been caught – "

            "Not in the Ministry," Dumbledore said. "I suspect this spy is here at Hogwarts. Of course, I have no way of confirming this, but I suggest that we all be even more careful than usual."

            "Do you know who it could be?" Sprout asked, glancing uneasily around the room as if expecting a rabid Death Eater to come bursting out from Fawkes's cage or behind a painting.

            "I have my suspicions," Dumbledore said calmly. "Nothing so solid as to share yet, but I do have some people in mind."

            "You might keep zhat new American girl in mind."

            The four Heads of Houses turned around abruptly. Miache was leaning against the closed door, looking grim.

            "Hello, Miache," Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows. "You do realize that the door was shut for a reason?"

            Miache shrugged. "I assumed you'd vant to know. Zhat girl knows far too much about zhis vorld for a Muggle. More zhan can be explained by a few 'ours of conversation wiz Erin Connor and Blaise Zabini."

            "Of course." Dumbledore nodded. "I thought she might."

            "Did you really? Vhy?"

            "Because Erin and Lianne both did, as well," Dumbledore said. "Or don't you remember the first time you met Miss Connor?"

            "Zhat does not explain anyzhing," Miache said coldly.

            "If anything, it creates more questions," Sinistra added. "Severus pointed out earlier that these three girls come from remarkably similar situations. If they all know more than they should, there has to be a reason."

            "Oh, there is," Dumbledore assured them. "It isn't something that I'm quite prepared to reveal just yet, but it's there. All I can tell you is that I'm almost positive that none of our three friends are evil."

            "Almost?" Miache repeated skeptically. "You aren't certain, zhen?"

            Dumbledore shrugged. "Nothing is ever completely certain. Where there is free will, there exists the possibility of both good and evil. There is always a choice. The evil may become good, or the good may become evil." He smiled suddenly. "But I'm reasonably sure that Miss Vance will not be going on an unprovoked murderous rampage any time soon."

            "How reassuring," Sinistra said.

            "Quite," Dumbledore agreed pleasantly. "And unless anyone else has something more to discuss… no? Then I believe we are done here."

            McGonagall, Sprout, and Sinistra left. Snape looked at the door, then chose to remain where he was, scowling blackly. Miache leaned against the wall by the door, as if she could never imagine a more comfortable spot to stand.

            Eventually, Dumbledore looked up at them again. "I'm sure you both have many important tasks to occupy your time elsewhere," he said.

            "Yes, and I'd like to get on wiz zhem," Miache said. "Per'aps your permanent faculty is used to your reticence, but I am not. Autumn Vance may or may not be ze Vitness – I don't know yet. But I do know zhat you are 'iding somezhing about 'er. I vant to know vhat it is."

            "It is something that Lianne told me in confidence," Dumbledore said sternly. "I see no reason as yet to betray that confidence."

            "And you're sure she isn't the Witness?" Snape asked, eyes narrowed.

            "It is extremely unlikely," Dumbledore said. "I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore than that."

            "Can't?" Miache asked pointedly. "Or _von't_?"

            "Won't, actually," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "If you really feel the need to know, you could write to Lianne or Erin yourselves, though I don't know how much they'll tell you. The pair of them seem to consider it more of an awkward personal matter than information of strategic importance."

            Snape snorted. "They would."

            "I zhink I vill write to vun of zhem," Miache said meditatively. "Per'aps both. I do not like secrets. In my experience, zhey very often turn out badly not only for ze keepers, but for all people affected."

            "They'll tell Vance, if you do," Snape warned. "Erin Connor's too loyal for her own good, and Lianne Black can't keep a secret to save her life."

            "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Severus," Dumbledore said. He smiled. "I don't think you know either of those two ladies quite as well as you think you do."

            "What the hell is that thing?"

            Autumn looked over her shoulder. She'd been put in the dormitory with the other sixth year Slytherin girls, on the basis that since she had to sleep _somewhere_ she might as well be with other girls her own age. She was arranging her new possessions around the extra bed. Or at least, she'd been doing so until two of her new roommates had interrupted her.

            "What's what?" Autumn asked impatiently. "I'm busy."

            "That – that _thing_ on your shoulder," said the girl. She was the one Tabitha had pointed out as Pansy Parkinson, and the expression of disgust on the girl's face did nothing to improve her looks. Not that much would, in Autumn's opinion.

            "Oh, you mean my new pet?" Autumn said brightly, taking her ferret off her shoulder to give the two other girls a better look at it. "This is a ferret. That's a kind of mammal," she added helpfully, in a slow, clear voice. "You can tell because it has fur, and suckles its young – "

            "We aren't allowed to have ferrets," said the other girl. Autumn's eyes narrowed. This was the girl with the horrible laugh who'd tripped her earlier – Asin Greengrass, wasn't it? "Only a cat, a toad, or an owl."

            Autumn looked over at the dresser on the other end of the room. Sitting on top was a glass tank, containing a large coiled snake. "Ugly cat," she said.

            "The snake is the symbol of Slytherin House," Parkinson said. "That – ferret – is just disgusting. It looks like a rat, and it probably has fleas." The ferret snarled at this. "And it's dangerous!" Parkinson added triumphantly. "I bet Professor Snape will make you get rid of it."

            "Lady Miache didn't seem to think so," Autumn said coolly.

            "Well, Lady Miache isn't the Head of Slytherin House, is she?" Parkinson snapped.

            "Besides, even if Snape doesn't make you get rid of it, Draco will," Greengrass said sweetly. "He doesn't like ferrets." She giggled. "At all."

            "She's got a _what_?" Draco said, startled.

            "A ferret," Asin said, her eyes wide with sincerity. "A horrible grey one. She keeps it on her _shoulder_."

            Draco scowled. Ever since fourth year, no Slytherin had dared to even mention ferrets around him. Bringing one to Hogwarts had been out of the question. Even the one or two people in other Houses who owned ferrets had tended to keep as far away from Draco as possible.

            "Are you going to deal with her?" Asin asked. Draco gave her a measuring glance. She seemed a little too enthusiastic about this.

            "What's in it for you?" he wanted to know.

            Asin pouted. "Can't I just be helpful for no reason?" she said. She paled as a dark look crossed Draco's face, clearly recalling the last time she'd had information he'd wanted. "I don't like her," she said. "I don't see why _my_ year should be stuck with some American Mudblood just because _Dumbledore_ thinks she ought to come to Hogwarts. If we make life rotten for her, maybe she'll leave."

            Draco nodded. "Fair enough. I don't like her either." He grinned. "What say you and Pansy make some difficulties, hmm?"

            Asin smiled demurely. "I think we can come up with something."

            "Right." Draco stood purposefully. "Then I think it's time to deal with that creature of hers."

            He strode across the Slytherin Common Room, to the entryway to the seven girls' dormitories, and pounded on the door until one of the girls came out. "Fetch Autumn Vance out here," he commanded.

            The girl, a seventh year and one of Tabitha's crowd, sniffed. "Do it yourself," she suggested. "Oh, wait – you can't. Too bad." She slammed the door in his face.

            Draco's lip curled into his trademark sneer as he decided what curse he would inflict on that girl the next time they met. He raised his hand to knock again.

            "Don't bother, Draco," Asin said, gliding past him. She smiled. "I'll bring her out for you."

            Draco raised an eyebrow. "She'll listen to you?"

            Asin just smiled, and went in. Draco counted seconds under his breath, prepared to give Asin two minutes before he tried knocking again. Her time was almost up when Autumn came storming out, fury written across her face. Draco wondered just what Asin had told the girl to get her out here.

            "I see you've acquired a pet," Draco said smoothly, before Autumn could speak. "Perhaps you weren't aware that ferrets are not permitted in the Slytherin Common Room."

            "Oh, yeah?" Autumn took her ferret off her shoulder and began petting it challengingly. "Says who?"

            "Says the sixth year Slytherin prefect," Draco said, stepping forward. "Get rid of that thing, or I'll do it for you."

            "I'd like to see you try," Autumn sneered.

            "Oh, you will," Draco promised her, drawing his wand. "Maybe I'll turn it into a rat – I know how much girls love rats. It shouldn't be too hard." He smirked. "It practically is a rat, anyway."

            "Oh, you think so?" Autumn's face was perfectly innocent. "I'd say it's too grey to look like a rat. There were some white ferrets in the shop, though, and _they_ definitely looked like rats – so scrawny and pale."

            Draco felt his face heat up, and he cursed himself for the spots of pale pink he knew were coloring his cheeks. _Stop that,_ he told himself fiercely. _She doesn't know. There's no way she could have found out this quickly. And besides, who would dare to tell her?_

            "I think my ferret isn't at all rat-like," Autumn said, making a show of studying it. "But you know what? His coat is the same color as your eyes. Maybe I'll name him after you – Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret." She smiled maliciously. "Has a nice ring, don't you think?"

            Draco froze, unable to believe it. _She knew._ How could she know? Who would have had the nerve to tell her?

            "What's wrong, Draco?" Autumn asked, eyes wide. "Don't you think it's the most adorable thing you've ever heard? A little baby Draco ferret," she added, in the most saccharine tones he'd ever heard.

            Draco absolutely saw red. He didn't know what curse he screamed, but he did know that the bitch managed to duck just in the nick of time. The jet of light hit a third year standing behind Autumn. Judging by the young girl's shrieks, it had been a pretty nasty spell.

            "You're gonna regret that." Autumn drew her wand with the hand that wasn't holding the ferret.

            Draco laughed mockingly. "You haven't even had a class yet," he scoffed. "You don't even know how to shoot sparks."

            "I know more than you think," Autumn said coldly. Draco had just opened his mouth for a retort when she yelled, "_Expelliarmus_!"

            Draco's wand went flying – and so did he, in a shower of violently pink sparks that set fire to the hem of his robes. He screamed as the heat of the fire reached his skin.

            "_Atramentus_!"

            Several gallons of liquid suddenly drenched Draco from head to foot. Mercifully, the flames were doused at once. Draco looked up to see who his guardian had been.

            Tabitha stood beside Autumn in the doorway. Behind her was, not just her usual sixth year crowd, but nearly half of Slytherin House. "Not bad," Tabitha said to Autumn, not taking her eyes off Draco. "But next time, the pattern is curse, then the snappy retort. Don't give him the chance to prepare."

            Draco stood up, noting as he did so that the other Slytherins were not gathering behind him, as they should have been doing in such a confrontation. "There isn't going to be a next time," he said grimly.

            Tabitha looked him ostentatiously up and down. "I think you have that part right, anyway."

            Draco followed her gaze. He realized, to his horror, that the liquid she'd poured over him had been black ink. And knowing the Slytherin mentality, it was probably _indelible_ black ink.

            Tabitha smirked. "The ferret stays."

            The humiliation of his defeat – or rather, his temporary setback, as Draco hastened to reassure himself – stayed with him even through the next day. The other Slytherins in his clique made it very clear that their leader had better do something to redeem himself, soon, if he didn't want to lose more than his pride. He didn't know if the professors noticed the infinitesimal snubs constantly administered, the slight distance his Housemates kept from him, but he definitely noticed it.

            The professors certainly saw his reaction to the treatment he was receiving. It didn't do much for his temper, which was never very good in the first place. He managed to send dumpy old Sprout and oversensitive Deva out of their respective classrooms in tears. However, when he got to Transfiguration, that pattern changed.

            "Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall's expression was as stern as the one she turned on the misbehaving students of her own House. "Come here."

            Draco walked unhurriedly up to her desk. "Yes?"

            "I understand that you have been tormenting the other professors. I won't stand for it. You will cease that sort of behavior at once."

            "You aren't the Head of Slytherin," Draco said.

            McGonagall fixed him with a glare that promised great suffering in his future if he wasn't careful. "No, I am not. But I am a professor, as well as the Deputy Headmistress of this school. On behalf of Professors Sprout and Deva, you will have a detention tonight. Take your seat, and see me when class is over to arrange that detention."

            Draco's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to object.

            "And ten points from Slytherin," McGonagall added crisply. "For impertinence. Not a word out of you for the rest of the period, Mr. Malfoy. If you try your tricks on me, you'll have detention for a week. Now _sit_."

            Draco sat, seething through the entire lesson. He didn't hear a word of the instructions, and didn't even make the effort to try to turn his tarantula into a tortoise. He toyed with the idea of turning it into a snapping turtle, to express his feelings, but decided in the end that it would be too much like real work to be worth the effort.

            Finally, the class ended, and Draco walked grumpily up to McGonagall's desk.

            "You will be sent to Madam Pomfrey," the professor said, without preamble. "I have no use for you here, and the hospital wing is always in need of a pair of hands. You will report to the hospital wing at seven o'clock tonight. And Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall leveled the full force of her famed glare at him, "if I ever hear of you tormenting another professor, I will turn you over to the Headmaster. Is that clear?"

            Draco's lip curled into a sneer. "Perfectly." He spun on his heel and strode out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster.

_            That's two times I've been disgraced, in two days time. They'll never let this pass._ Draco scowled as he headed to the Slytherin Common Room. He didn't think he could face his House at lunch. He'd just claim not to be hungry. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

            What he couldn't explain was how he had allowed himself to be doubled shamed. But he was certain it all began with that American girl – Autumn Vance. It was her fault, all of it. None of this would have happened if she'd stayed in America where she belonged!

            Yes, Autumn Vance was the beginning of his troubles – but, Draco realized, she could also be the end of them. All he had to do was shame her, and his reputation would be restored. All that he had to figure out, was how to go about it.

            "But I don't understand! How can this – this piece of wood make _anything_ happen?"

            "It isn't a piece of wood," Blaise told Autumn patiently. "It's a wand. You can tell because sparks and stuff come out when you wave it."

            "But it doesn't make sense!" Autumn protested, glaring furiously at her wand. "What makes it different from other pieces of wood? How come it makes spells happen, if it's just ordinary wood with dead animals stuffed inside?"

            "Well, does it really matter?" Blaise said. "I mean, stuff happens whether you understand it or not, right? So why do you care if you know why?"

            "But I have to write essays about it," Autumn said impatiently. "Miache's making me write about basic Transfiguration theory by tomorrow, and about the properties of the Draught of Living Death for Wednesday. Flitwick wants me to read and take notes on the first chapter of my textbook so that I can use the information next time he meets with me. And tomorrow I have even _more_ classes! I don't know if I can do this."

             Blaise frowned, his forehead wrinkling in the effort of thought. "I think it's hard, too," he said finally. "But I know all the things you have to do. I'll help you, if you want me to."

            "Oh, _please_." Mandy Brocklehurst entered Blaise's section of the hospital wing. "You're being tutored. You're in no position to teach anything to anybody." She looked Autumn up and down appraisingly. "I'll help tutor you, if you like."

            Autumn frowned. She knew what the Ravenclaw was getting in exchange for tutoring Blaise. "I can't pay you," she warned.

            "Didn't ask you to," Mandy said, shrugging. "I like you. I don't like Draco Malfoy, so he's fair game to hit up for candy."

            "You don't like Draco?" Blaise asked, shocked. "Why not?"

            "Because he's an arrogant prick who thinks the world exists for him to wipe his feet on," Mandy said calmly. "By the way, Vance, I heard about your ferret. Great name." Her grin reminded Autumn of wolves in the snow.

            "You have a ferret?" Blaise said, bewildered. "But Draco won't like it."

            "He mentioned that." Autumn smiled innocently. "He was convinced otherwise."

            "But – "

            "Well, well, well."

            Everyone looked up at the new arrival in the hospital wing. Draco Malfoy lounged in the doorway, smirking like a king viewing his flock of peasants. "And here I thought your judgment couldn't be worse, Zabini. Consorting with the upstart American?" He clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

            Autumn snickered. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard anyone make that sound and expect to be taken seriously," she said. She echoed the clucking noise, loudly and mockingly. "Goodness, this is so _difficult._ I'm astonished at how articulate you must be to pull it off."

            Draco glared at her. "Shut up."

            "You started it," Autumn said snidely.

            "I did not!"

            "Did too."

            "I – " Draco stopped short. "Oh, no. You will not catch me that way again."

            "Again?" Mandy said, with great interest. "Have you had one of those arguments before?"

            "That is none of your concern," Draco said. "I'm paying you to tutor Zabini, not to goggle at me. Get on with your tutoring!"

            Mandy just grinned and sat on the edge of Blaise's bed, to get a better view.

            "Don't shout at her, Draco," Blaise objected.

            "I'll shout at whoever I want to shout at," Draco snapped.

            "But I don't want you to shout at Mandy," Blaise said. "I like her. I like Autumn, too. You shouldn't shout at her, either."

            "Do you want a worse curse laid on you than that pansy-arsed one Boot hit you with?" Draco snarled. "I tell you that you do not like Autumn Vance, and that I will shout at her whenever I damn well please!"

            "I'm standing right here, in case you didn't notice," Autumn said angrily.

            "Oh, I noticed, all right," Draco sneered. "How could I miss the filthy stench of a Mudblood? You stink up the entire room. Good thing you didn't bring that rat of yours – we'd hardly be able to breathe for the – "

            Draco just managed to duck as Autumn's fist went sailing over his head.

            "Oh, that's clever," he taunted. "You can't come up with anything to refute me, so you have to resort to violence. Very classy."

            "Just trying to speak a language you understand," Autumn said, silently calculating when he'd been within reach of her fist again.

            "You might try real English, then," Draco said. "That indecipherable American accent of yours is getting unbearable."

            "About as unbearable as your prima donna attitude?" Autumn shot back. "No wonder you don't have any friends."

            Draco smirked. "What are you, blind? I have dozens of friends."

            "You have followers, maybe," Autumn said, "but friends? Please. I've only been here a couple days, and even I can see that no one likes you."

            "But you see," Draco smiled nastily, "I don't care if anyone likes me. I care if they obey me. And you will obey me, Vance. One way or another."

            "Oh, is that supposed to make me frightened?" Autumn scoffed. "I'm quaking in my shoes – really I am."

            "You will be soon." Draco chose to ignore her sarcasm. He turned to depart, but looked over his shoulder before he went. "You've made yourself a dangerous enemy, Vance. I don't forget. And I never forgive."

            Autumn just grinned. "And isn't that nice for you?"

Author's Note – Well, isn't that a fun dynamic between Autumn and Draco? And I'm getting rather attached to Blaise and Mandy. I think they're going to feature in the story more than I'd intended.

Disclaimer - Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling.  The song lyrics are from "Neverland" by Heather Alexander.

Thank you everyone who reviewed!

Dark Angel31 (Wow! I didn't realize I'd been working on this story for so long. Kinda sad, when you look at how few chapters I've gotten through… ^.^''), Sharem, San-San, Jessica, Crazy Courtney, kat6528, Angel Black1, Kalika Aryn (Evil characters are definitely the most fun!), nycgal, yummy-oh, Bertie Bott, Melena Marquis, Purple Nail Polish Person, CG Anna Marie, Ashby Everwhite (I certainly wouldn't wish either Draco or Autumn onto an innocent, unsuspecting person!), Rosepetal77, Suzaka, The Dark Vella, Fluffy the Teddy Bear Slayer, Blood57, chochang913 (Lianne's hiding behind the scenery right now, but she's definitely not going to disappear entirely. I like her too much!), TheStek, draicana, coori, Reader, Tera Earth, Yavanna and SunStar, Little House Girl, KeeperOfTheMoon, rowan sapphire.

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	21. Payback's a Bitch

Dreaming of You

Author's Note: Ayy. And to think I promised myself that there wouldn't be anymore four-month absences. I blame the college applications, I really do. Wicked nasty evil things, they are. But they seem to be done, more or less. My goal now is to have a new chapter a month. I guess we'll see.

And thank you to Merry, my beta! *waves*

**_Part 20 – Payback's a Bitch_**

_The means are right for taking, fade to grey  
Trying to be ruthless, in the face of beauty  
In this matrix, it's plain to see  
It's either you or me.  
  
_

**Chapter 34**

            "I wonder if anyone would notice if I killed her." Draco kicked a tree stump savagely. "Or care. She hasn't been here long enough to make friends. Maybe if I bury her well away from the castle, they'll all forget about her." His eagle owl, Srosh, hooted encouragingly, perched on another tree nearby.

            "Or maybe they'll give me an award," Draco added bitterly. "I mean, it would practically be a service to the school. Cleansing our hallowed halls of unwanted filth, we could call it. I could have a trophy."

            He stalked across the grounds, scowling into the chilled air. Srosh obediently flew after him. Ostensibly, Draco was taking his pet out for a flight around the grounds. In actuality, he was taking the opportunity to rant to the only being in the school that wasn't avoiding him. The non-Slytherins normally hated him, of course, and Tabitha's crowd kept well away from his, but none of them really mattered. The ones who mattered were his followers – Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Asin. And technically Blaise, as well, though he really wasn't bright enough to make an informed decision. Draco wasn't entirely sure why Blaise followed him, to be honest, though he rather suspected that it had something to do with the fact that their parents knew each other.

            But apart from Blaise, who was in the hospital wing and could therefore be disregarded for the time being, all Draco's traditional followers were shunning him. It wasn't a permanent situation yet, or at least as permanent as Slytherin politics ever were, but Draco could see that he didn't have very long to find a solution. Pansy and Asin had already begun eying one another, evaluating their chances of becoming the new group leader, should Draco be deposed in the end. Draco gave it fifty-fifty odds – Pansy had more authority in the group, but Asin was much better at sneaky, underhanded schemes.

            Not, of course, that Draco had any intention of letting either girl oust him. He'd played them off one another before, he could do it again. And he wasn't worried about Crabbe or Goyle making a power play. Those two would follow whoever won the battle, but they didn't have the brains to participate themselves. And as for Blaise – not even worth considering.

            The students from other years probably wouldn't be problems, either. The seventh years were more or less indifferent to sixth year affairs, having their own schemes to worry about. And as for the younger students, well, the sixth years would never stand for a coup by anyone younger than a fifth year, and the only fifth years still around were too stupid to come up with a decent plan.

            Noleta might have been able to, of course… but Noleta wasn't around anymore. Draco silently cursed her for transferring to Durmstrang, just when he could have used her advice the most. She'd always been able to keep herself relatively uninfluenced by Slytherin intrigues, and could always offer an objective opinion on the current events in their House.

            She wasn't even answering letters, much to Draco's disgust. He'd written to her several times – or, all right, maybe a few more than several – and she'd completely ignored him. Srosh had brought back the letters unopened. Eventually, Draco had given up. Whatever she'd thought of him while she was at Hogwarts, her opinion had clearly gone drastically downhill.

            Or maybe she just had no further use for him. It was a depressing thought. Draco and Noleta had spent most of the previous year as a couple, but it was closer to the political partnership his parents had than to the emotional relationships common to teenagers. Draco hadn't expected declarations of eternal love from her… but he'd thought she was at least fond enough of him to pick up a quill once in a while.

            He'd asked her once why she stayed with him, when she knew that the only reason he'd bothered to date was that his father had ordered him to find a girlfriend. Noleta had laughed. "You're the Crown Prince of Slytherin, of course," she'd said. "If I stay by your side, I'm next in line to be queen."

            It made sense, in a Slytherin sort of way. She wanted power, so she used her looks and bloodlines to get it, through Draco. It gave her a reassuring motive. Noleta had always made it clear that she viewed Draco as her better, submitting to his wishes even at the expense of her own. It had been a little disconcerting at times, to be around someone who placed his welfare above her own, but her theory did explain it. If she displeased him, she was back to her original place as a nonentity in the power hierarchy.

            And, by that line of thinking, Noleta had no reason to even bother to tell him that she was breaking the relationship off now that she was at Durmstrang. She couldn't get anything from him anymore, so she didn't have to act the part of the obedient girlfriend. And it wasn't as if his feelings were hurt, Draco insisted to himself. Noleta hadn't been the one person at Hogwarts that he'd thought he could count on. He'd depended on her insights into the Slytherin minds, but he could easily get along without her. They certainly hadn't been friends.

            At any rate, thinking about Noleta wouldn't solve any of Draco's problems. He brought his mind back to the problem at hand – his position at the top of the Slytherin hierarchy, and how to keep it there. Before he could worry about putting down threats, Draco had to worry about regaining his power. Autumn Vance, she was the key. Everything stemmed from her. Draco's eyes narrowed as he recalled the way she'd spoken to him in the hospital wing. And what exactly had she been doing there, anyway? He'd have to have a talk with Blaise about consorting with the enemy. He would do so, as soon as he'd put Vance in her place.

            But how to go about doing it? That was the heart of the matter. It would have to be in the Slytherin Common Room – away from the professors and other students, but in full view of as many Slytherins as possible. And it had to be magical, because he wasn't at all sure he could take her in a physical fight. He'd never been strong, and if the punch she'd swung at him was anything to go on, she could knock him out and make the situation even worse. Stupid muscular bitch… Draco had always hated tough-looking girls. Females ought to look delicate and fragile, like flowers.

            So if it wasn't a physical confrontation, it would have to be magical. The question was, should he warn her first? He could have a formal duel with her, and he'd almost certainly win. Unless that wand of hers did something insane again. He frowned at that. No, best not to risk it. Whatever outlandish wand the fool girl had bought, it was clearly unstable. He couldn't give her a chance to try a spell on him. Who knew what would happen?

            That left backstabbing. Of course, that was a dirty, ignoble way of fighting that implied he was nothing more than a despicable cheat who would shamelessly double-cross anyone to get what he wanted.

            Another advantage was that she would never see it coming and thus would have no chance to run her mouth at him again.

            So. A sneak attack it was, then. It was just a pity that, since Vance would never see the attack coming, he'd have no chance to make her eat those insults – 

            Draco paused, and a beatific grin spread across his face. It would take research, and preparation, and a lot more effort than he was used to expending, but he had it. He knew exactly how he was going to make that girl suffer.

~*~

            "And this is the Owlery."

            Mandy threw open the door, taking Autumn on the last stop in their tour of the school. Autumn had been grumbling that she couldn't find anything but the hospital wing and the Great Hall, until Mandy had gotten irritated and shown her the various important places of the school.

            "And I can use the school owls to send letters? For free?" Autumn asked thoughtfully.

            "If you can find an open one," Mandy said. "And if the letter isn't too heavy. There's a post office in Hogsmeade for bulkier mail, if you can get permission to go. Sinistra's pretty good about giving us permission – I think she figures we'll sneak out anyway if she doesn't let us go – but I've heard Snape only lets his favored ones go. And I gotta say, I believe it."

            "I thought he liked all the Slytherins," Autumn said, frowning.

            Mandy snorted. "He favors all of them, but they aren't all favored. He likes Malfoy, for some reason, and Parkinson, and Nott. He doesn't like Crabbe or Goyle – probably thinks they're idiots, which is giving them rather too much credit." She walked through the rows of owl perches with a quick, almost impatient step. "Here." She stopped, gesturing to one of the owls. "This one's mine – Irides the Third."

            "The Third?" Autumn asked. "Do they die a lot?"

            "Not all owls are particularly long-lived," Mandy said with a shrug. "Keeping the same name saves trouble." She gave Irides a perfunctory pat, then kept on going. "The owls from outside the school come through here," she said, gesturing to a separate wall of perches. "You can wait for breakfast to pick up your mail, since it's delivered every day, or you can come up here to get it straight from the birds, if you're that impatient. The birds ought to recognize you when you get here, and let you know if they've got a message for you. If they don't fly at you within about thirty seconds – good Lord, is that a toucan?" Mandy stopped abruptly as a bird glided gently towards them.

            Autumn stared at the bird. It was, indeed, a toucan. What it was doing in the Owlery was another question entirely. It snapped its beak at the owls near the two girls, until the owls, trying not to look ruffled and indignant, fluttered away, leaving the toucan space to perch. It graciously extended its leg towards Autumn, showing her the message with "Autumn Vance" written on it.

            Mandy raised an eyebrow. "Unusual," she said. "You'll have to tell me how your friend got hold of a toucan."

            Autumn frowned. "Once I've figured out who it's from, I'll be sure to ask." She picked up the letter cautiously, as though it might explode, and started to stick it in her pocket for later.

            "Oh, go ahead and read it," Mandy said cheerfully. "Don't mind me. Really."

            Autumn gave the Ravenclaw a suspicious look, but opened the letter anyway. She wasn't really surprised when Mandy edged around to be able to read over her shoulder.

            She read the message written on the letter:

_Dear Autumn,_

_            Oh my God, hi! I can't believe you're here! This is so cool! Oh, this is Lianne, by the way._

            Autumn shook her head. "Figures," she muttered, half amused, half sad. Sounded like Li hadn't changed at all.

            _Erin just told me what happened, and it's really exciting. Not the part about you being stranded, of course, but about you being here. I really missed you. You'll have to be sure to write to me. I told Tinkerbell not to come back here till she's got a response from you._

            "Tinkerbell?" Autumn eyed the toucan dubiously. "That's you, is it?" The toucan, unsurprisingly, did not respond.

_            Are you having fun at Hogwarts? Believe me, it's a great place to be. If you have any questions about it, or anything, you can ask me. Of course, I heard you got put in Slytherin, so I don't know how much I can help you. Not my House, you know? More power to the Hufflepuffs!_

_            So have you met anyone you recognize yet? Have you met Draco Malfoy? Is he nice? Is he really the one you were talking to on the phone? I just knew he would be! You've just _got_ to get together with him – Erin and I both have our men, after all!_

_            Anyway, you have to tell me everything that's going on with you, ok? I really missed talking to you. I know it hasn't been all that long for you – what's up with that, anyway? – but it's been ages for me. Tell me all about Hogwarts and stuff! Write back really soon!_

_Love,_

Lianne

            Autumn's internal battle between hilarity and horror ended in a short, sharp laugh. "Oh, that's Lianne, all right."

            "So who is she?" Mandy asked curiously.

            "A friend of mine from America." Autumn hesitated, wondering how much of what had happened to her she really wanted to spread around. "She came to Britain a little while before I did."

            "And she thinks you ought to be romantically involved with Draco Malfoy?" Mandy snorted. "You're sure she's your friend?"

            Autumn just gave a half-smile, and tucked the letter in her pocket. She looked over at the toucan. "So the bird won't leave till I've got a return message?" She shrugged. "It can hang out here for the night, then."

            Autumn and Mandy started to turn to leave, when the sound of footsteps clattering up the stairs to the Owlery stopped them. The toucan squawked shrilly, and flew into the air.

            "Hey," a voice came, from behind the rows of owls, "I know that bird."

            Mandy, apparently recognizing the voice, raised her eyebrows. "Really, now?"

            Two boys ducked around the owls to face the girls. "Hi – er, Mandy Brocklehurst, isn't it?"

            Autumn's eyes widened as she realized who the two boys had to be. After all, there couldn't be _that_ many black-haired, green-eyed boys with lightning bolt scars who went around with redheaded boys. She took the opportunity to size up the boys she'd read so much about.

            Potter was short. Very short. This amused Autumn to no end, though she wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was because she'd never liked Potter in the books. She'd always thought he was a little idiot with a big hero-complex problem. She'd suspected that he was being set up to get someone he cared for killed.

            Other than the height and the scar, Potter looked disappointingly clean-cut and boring. He had what kind people would call an "honest face." Autumn didn't know what she'd call it, but she'd probably start with words like "naïve" and "bland," and work her way down from there. Hazel, Autumn thought, suddenly depressed at recalling her friend in America, would adore him.

            Weasley, on the other hand, at least balanced out Potter's height problem. He loomed over the rest of them, like a tower topped with flames. His hair was, indeed, extremely red, but Autumn felt a little cheated. She'd been secretly expecting the Weasleys to have red hair the color of fire trucks, or stop signs. Not red hair the color of red hair.

            "Yep, I'm Mandy," Mandy said cheerfully. "And this is our new student, Autumn Vance. Autumn, these two are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

            The two boys glanced at each other uncertainly. After a moment, Autumn raised an eyebrow. "Do they speak?"

            "You're a Slytherin," Weasley accused.

            Autumn clapped her hands to her mouth in exaggerated shock. "No! Really?"

            Weasley's eyes darkened. "Typical." He turned to go.

            "No, wait," Potter said, holding up a hand. Weasley paused impatiently. "Whose bird is that?" He pointed at the toucan.

            "It belongs to my friend," Autumn said. "Lianne. You don't know her."

            "Oh." Potter deflated. "I – I guess I thought it was something else." He gave the toucan one last glance, then shook his head. "I must've been too far away." He tried to cover his confusion with a polite smile. "It was nice to meet you."

            Autumn stared at him blankly. "No, it wasn't."

            "Er – right." Potter backed towards Weasley. "You know, I've just remembered that – that thing. That I have to do."

            Autumn smirked as Potter and Weasley hurried out. "That was more amusing than I thought it would be."

            "How so?" Mandy asked curiously.

            "Oh – nothing." Autumn smiled to herself. "Nothing."

~*~

            "So this is your last night in the hospital wing, huh?" Autumn perched on the bed across from Blaise. "Must be exciting."

            "I'll be happy," Mandy offered. "I want my evenings back."

            "I guess it will be nice to be back in the dorms." Blaise frowned. "Except when Crabbe snores all night. Or when Goyle clips his toenails and doesn't throw them out. Or when Draco uses my eyeliner to take notes." He paused. "You know, I don't actually like the dorms all that much. Maybe I can stay here."

            "I'm sure Terry could be persuaded to curse you again," Mandy said, smirking.

            Blaise's face lit up. "Ooh, do you really think he would?"

            "Um." Mandy blinked, thrown by this unexpected enthusiasm. "Not if you're going to get all excited about it."

            "Oh." Blaise sighed. "Have you asked him about me?"

            "Yes."

            Blaise grinned like a little kid. "And?"

            Mandy snorted. "And he says that if you don't stay well away from him he'll borrow Morag's book on the history of Celtic curses, and come up with something _really_ nasty." She frowned. "Or maybe it was Su's analysis of the effectiveness of Greek jinxes." She shrugged. "Anyway, it will be bad. So don't pester him."

            Blaise looked down at his hands, dejected. "I just want him to like me."

            Mandy gave Blaise a suspicious look. "You do know he's straight, right?"

            "He might not be," Blaise said defensively. "Maybe he just hasn't met the right guy yet."

            "And you think that you're this 'right guy?'" Mandy rolled her eyes.

            "I could be!"

            "Zabini, you aren't even the _wrong_ guy." Mandy sighed. "Look, how about I introduce you to him properly some time? You could sit down, talk to him, be rejected in person. It would probably be good for you. And for your ever-reluctant go-between, of course." She bowed ironically.

            The irony was, of course, totally lost on Blaise. "Would you really? That would be great!" He bounced up and down happily on the bed. "I get to meet Terry! In _person_!"

            Mandy stared at Blaise, clearly beginning to regret the offer. "Right…" She shook her head and dismissed Blaise, letting him revel in his own little world. "So have you replied to the toucan lady yet?"

            "Not yet. I just haven't had time," Autumn said. "Not to mention the complete lack of interesting things to say."

            "Tell her about us," Mandy suggested. "I'm sure she'd be most amused."

            "Maybe." Autumn shrugged indifferently.

            "Well, you could always invent a torrid romance between you and Draco Malfoy," Mandy suggested. "Since she thinks it's so likely and all."

            Blaise stopped his ramblings about Terry's superhuman virtues. "Autumn and Draco?" He tilted his head thoughtfully. "That would be kinda…"

            "Crazy," Autumn said sourly.

            "Oh, I don't think so," Blaise said, in all seriousness. "It would be cute. Really! You two should get together. I could play matchmaker!"

            "Please don't," Autumn said hastily.

            "But – "

            "I'm sure you'll have more than enough to do attracting Terry," Autumn said, in the hopes of distracting Blaise.

            "No, that will be love at first sight," Blaise told her.

            "You're already seen him," Mandy pointed out.

            "And I love him already!" Blaise grinned, delighted with this logic. "He probably just didn't get a good look at me. Maybe he needs glasses." Blaise's expression turned dreamy-eyed. "Terry would be cute in glasses…"

            "I'll be sure to pass that on to him," Mandy said. Blaise didn't answer. Mandy leaned over and waved a hand in front of his face.

            "He's lost in Terry-land," Autumn said, grinning.

            "Good." Mandy bent over to pick up her books. "I've still got to find something creative to take a picture of for Magical Photography."

            "Good luck with that." Autumn stood. "I think I'll go, too. See you tomorrow, Blaise."

            Blaise waved absently as Mandy and Autumn left.

            "Back to your Common Room, then?" Mandy asked.

            "Where else?" Autumn said.

            "Just wondering." Mandy paused. "Look, normally I wouldn't say anything, but Padma Patil says Malfoy's up to something. But she got it from her sister, who heard it from Seamus Finnegan, and I wouldn't trust him to tell me the sky's blue."

            "Then why say anything to me about it?" Autumn asked warily.

            "Because I know how Slytherin politics work." Mandy sighed. "Look, you must have some sense for this – you're in Slytherin, after all – but they've all had six years to practice living the way they do. You've probably been raised to sublimate your Slytherin instincts, so it'll take you a while to get up to their level of nastiness."

            "What does that have to do with Malfoy?"

            "You don't see it?" Mandy said, surprised. "You made him look bad. Worse than bad – you shamed him in front of his followers. You're one-up on him now."

            Then Autumn got it. "So he has to get me somehow, to get prestige back."

            "Exactly." Mandy nodded. "So… be careful, all right? I'd hate to have to come visit you in the hospital wing, now that Blaise is getting out."

            "Thanks for the warning," Autumn said, smiling. "I'll try not to let him corner me."

            Mandy hesitated, but couldn't seem to think of anything to add. "Right, then." She turned to go towards the Ravenclaw Common Room. "See you later."

            "See you," Autumn echoed, heading towards the dungeons.

            So Draco had it in for her, huh? Well, she'd dealt with him once. She could do it again.

            She reached the Slytherin Common Room, lost in her own thoughts as she entered.

            Until a hand grabbed her shoulder.

            "Where are you going, Vance?" Malfoy drawled, yanking her around to face him.

            "My room," Autumn snapped, shaking his hand off her. "Grab me again and I'll hit you."

            "Ooh, testy," Draco mocked. "So you think you're too good to stay here in the Common Room with the likes of us? Too proud to socialize with the Slytherins?"

            Autumn stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" She was starting to get a very bad feeling about this.

            "You know what I think?" Draco advanced on her, forcing her to back up with every step he took. "I think someone's been hanging out with too many Ravenclaws, getting her confidence pumped up all out of proportion. Someone who likes to run her mouth. Someone who doesn't know what kind of enemies she's been making."

            "So do you have a point, or do you just like the sound of your own voice?" Autumn said, trying not to show her increasing worry.

            "Do I really need a point?" Draco smirked. "I'm a Slytherin. I belong here. Whereas you…" He glanced her up and down ostentatiously. "Well, you're just an American Mudblood trying to pass for a better class of witch."

            Autumn pulled back her fist to hit him, but before she could swing, he'd gotten his arm behind her and caught her fist. "I was expecting that," Draco said. He grinned nastily. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that violence is never the answer?"

            Autumn's eyes widened as his hand tightened around her fist, nails gouging her flesh. "Let go!"

            "No." Draco squeezed until his nails were just about to break the skin, then held the pressure constant. "This is payback, bitch."

            "What – " Autumn broke off in a coughing fit as Draco used his free hand to splash the contents of a vial of potion into her mouth.

            "_Quae est foeda metat toxicum sererat_," Draco said rapidly, in an almost casual tone, "_atque venenata dicta edat_!"

            "What spell – " Autumn choked again, but this time not because of liquid. Something was forcing itself down her throat, something cold and slimy and invisible, blocking her breathing. Draco released her arm with a smirk as she collapsed to the ground, coughing and clutching at her throat.

            "_I'm astonished at how articulate you must be._" Words rang out in the silent Common Room – words in Autumn's voice. They also scrolled quickly across the ceiling, then swooped down towards Autumn. She turned away, but the words twisted their way into her mouth, writhing into her throat to join the slimy lump already there.

            "_Even I can see that no one likes you,_" Autumn's voice continued, strangely magnified, as the words went on their path towards Autumn. "_About as unbearable as your prima donna attitude?_"

            Autumn tried to swallow, to get rid of the increasing pressure on her throat, but it didn't help. The words just kept coming at her.

            "_And here I was thinking that you were just being spiteful._"

            "_It can't be worse than this side of the table._"

            Autumn's eyes watered, whether from pain or from lack of breath she wasn't sure. The room blurred behind her tears, but she could still see vague forms that were the Slytherins surrounding her, as they refused to help.

            "_Well? Aren't you going to talk? Don't you have some stupid smart remark to make?_" her voice mocked, as colors danced before her eyes. She couldn't see anything anymore. She could barely hear the voice through the ringing in her ears, as she struggled to breathe around the choking words. "_Aren't you going to sneer and insult me and be nasty and evil?_" The last thing Autumn felt was a contemptuous foot, kicking her while she was down. She realized, as she passed out from lack of air, that it could only be Draco.

            "_Well?_"

            Then even the voice faded.

~*~

            "I don't care what that girl says – I've seen that bird before. I know it." Harry glanced down the hallway in both directions before he and Ron proceeded. He'd learned by now that, Invisibility Cloak or not, it paid to be cautious when sneaking around after curfew.

            "Where would Snuffles get hold of the same toucan Vance's friend has?" Ron protested. "Look, it's probably really common over in America. Maybe they use toucans instead of owls. It could be a new fad."

            "I don't think so." Harry was not swayed from his purpose. "I want a closer look at that bird, either way."

            "Well – " Ron stopped short, almost jerking the cloak off Harry. "Did you hear that?"

            "What?" Then Harry heard it. An uneven gasping, combined with the rough scraping of cloth and flesh against stone. "That sounds like someone in trouble – someone hurt." He switched directions.

            "This late at night?" Ron asked.

            "I don't know – I guess." Harry turned a corner, and stopped dead. Autumn Vance was leaning hard against the wall, all the color drained out of her face, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. "Oh my God – what happened?"

            The Slytherin blinked at the space in front of her, and Harry realized he still had the Invisibility Cloak on. Before Ron could object, he pulled it off, thrusting it into Ron's arms as he hurried to Autumn's side. "Are you ok?"

            "Stupid question," Autumn rasped, her voice rough from whatever ordeal she'd been through. "What do you want?"

            "To help," Harry said, frowning. What did she think he wanted?

            Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

            "Because you're hurt," Harry told her, slowly and clearly. Maybe she'd hit her head or something. "And you need to get to the hospital wing."

            "I noticed." Autumn tried to push past him, but she was still too weak. She stumbled, and had to cling to the wall for support.

            "Stop that, you'll hurt yourself," Harry snapped. He paused. "Hurt yourself more." Ignoring her protests, he swung one of her arms around his shoulders, shifting her weight from the wall to him. "Help me out, here, Ron," he ordered.

            "Don't see why we have to help a Slytherin," Ron grumbled. "She made it clear she doesn't want our help."

            "If you're only going to complain, you can go back to the Common Room," Harry told him. "Otherwise, get her other arm."

            "Don't touch me," Autumn growled – but she clearly didn't have any bite to her bark.

            "Look, you can't get to the hospital wing on your own," Harry said reasonably, as he and Ron helped Autumn one reluctant step at a time. "And the hospital wing is definitely where you need to be. So let's take a minute to put aside whatever hatred there is between our Houses, and get you some help."

            "Weirdo," Autumn muttered. But she seemed to give in. She didn't complain again the rest of the way to the hospital wing.

            Harry banged on the door with his free hand. There was no answer. He knocked louder.

            "All right, all right, I'm coming."

            It was with no little relief that the three heard Madam Pomfrey's voice approaching. The key turned in the lock, as she continued, "But woe betide you if you are students out of – " She fell silent as she got the door open, getting a good look at Autumn.

            "She was like this when we found her," Ron volunteered.

            "Get her inside," Madam Pomfrey commanded briskly, switching at once into nurse mode. "Put her on a bed. Weasley, you fetch me some chocolate – second cabinet from the right, third shelf up. Two squares." She gave Autumn another glance. "Two and a half. Potter, you come here and tell me what happened while I get bandages."

            "I can – " Autumn began.

            "You can_not_," Madam Pomfrey snapped. "Whatever curse you've been hit with, I could see at once that it affected your throat very badly. You shouldn't be speaking at all for at least the next hour, and as little as possible for another day. Now you hush, Miss Vance, and Mr. Potter, you start talking."

            "Well…" Harry wondered how to phrase this without getting any of them in trouble. Well, Autumn probably wouldn't get in trouble, being cursed and all, but he and Ron had definitely been out of bed after hours, no matter which way he told it.

            "I won't punish you," Madam Pomfrey said impatiently, seeing the look in Harry's eyes. "Not for helping her." She paused. "Unless it was you who cursed her, in which case – "

            "No!" Harry said indignantly. "No, we just found her like this."

            "When? Just now? Or earlier?"

            "Just now, when Ron and I – " Harry stopped.

            "Ron and you… what?" Madam Pomfrey prompted, gathering together a collection of potions. Harry could smell some of them from where he stood, and if Autumn had to drink any of them he did not envy her.

            "Well…" Harry hesitated, reluctant to mention the Owlery. That would lead to the toucan, which would lead to how Harry knew it, which would lead to Sirius, which was definitely not a good place to end up. "We were… we were going…"

            Madam Pomfrey mistook the reluctance. "To the Astronomy Tower?" She nodded understandingly.

            "No!" Harry turned bright red. "No, that's not – we aren't – "

            "Don't worry, dear." Madam Pomfrey gave him the kindest smile he'd ever seen on her. "I won't tell a soul."

            "Um." Harry blinked. Well, when she put it like that… "Ok."

            "So you were walking about with your friend, and you heard Miss Vance?"

            "Right. She was trying to get here, but we knew she couldn't make it."

            "You don't know what happened to her? What curse it was?"

            "No."

            Madam Pomfrey sighed expressively. "Damn. That would help." She scowled. "Bloody Slytherins and their underground warfare."

            Harry stared at the nurse, impressed. He'd never heard a teacher curse before. Well, not while said teacher knew he was listening in, anyway.

            Oblivious to this, Madam Pomfrey headed back over to Autumn. "Here you are, girl." She started to hold out a cup, paused, and tapped the rim with her wand. The liquid inside the cup began steaming. She handed it to Autumn. "Drink that. All of it, mind. And while it's hot. Loses its effect if it's cold."

            Autumn wrinkled her nose, catching the same scent Harry had, but shrugged and drank the potion anyway. Harry winced. She had to be in a lot of pain to drink that stuff willingly.

            Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey took the chocolate from Ron and started breaking it into tiny pieces, which she dropped into another cup of hot liquid. The chocolate melted, not into hot chocolate, but into something resembling chocolate syrup.

            "Done?" Madam Pomfrey took the first cup from Autumn, and handed her the second. "Drink this one as slowly as you can, and let it coat your throat. It should dull the pain. And the chocolate will do you good."

            As Autumn occupied herself with that, Madam Pomfrey turned to Harry and Ron. "You two had better get back to your Common Room," she said firmly. She went to the counter and wrote a brief message on a sheet of parchment. "Here. This gives you permission to be in the hallways on your way back to your Common Room." She smiled suddenly. "_Straight_ back, mind you. No more detours to Astronomy Towers."

            Ron had his mouth open to question that statement when Harry's foot conveniently collided with Ron's ankle. "Thank you," Harry said quickly, before Ron could recover enough to comment. "We'll go now." He looked back at Autumn. "I hope you feel better." He grabbed Ron's arm and towed the taller boy out of the hospital wing.

            "What was that all about?" Ron asked, bewildered.

            "Oh… nothing." Harry tried to hide a grin. "Nothing."

~*~

            The hospital wing would have been a nice place to wake up, if it hadn't been for the being sick part. Autumn woke up to the smell of coffee. She hadn't had coffee since she'd got here. Tea just wasn't the same. She sat up groggily.

            "Oh, awake, are you?" Madam Pomfrey nodded at her. "Feeling better, are you, Miss Vance? No, just nod. Don't try to talk yet." She came over to Autumn's bedside, touching her wand to the girl's throat. "Hmm… not good, but not as bad as it could have been. You're lucky Potter and Weasley found you when they did. Your voice might have been permanently damaged." She frowned, considering. "I think you'd better stay in here for at least another day. Possibly two."

            Autumn shook her head violently.

            "Yes, you should," Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "One day, at least. I haven't worked at a school for – well, for a lot of years without learning something about how teenagers act. Two minutes out of here and you'll be chattering away, ruining your voice. Besides, healing magic takes lots of energy – and that means rest." She thought for a moment again. "Well, you shouldn't eat until your throat is healed, but would you like a drink? Some pumpkin juice?"

            Autumn made a face. Pumpkin juice was bad enough during the day – she did _not _need it first thing in the morning. She pointed at the coffee pot.

            Madam Pomfrey laughed. "Coffee, hmm? Well, I suppose I should have expected it – you are from America, after all." She poured some of the coffee into a mug and handed it to Autumn. "You know, dear, if you're that fond of coffee, you might want to visit the kitchens, and ask the House Elves about it. They don't bother to make enough for the whole school, since not many drink it, but if you ask them, they'll be glad to bring you a cup – or a pot – every morning."

            Autumn nodded thoughtfully. She'd have to look into that – once she could talk again, of course.

            "Madam Pomfrey?"

            Hearing Blaise's voice, Autumn twisted around to look. He was standing in the hallway, looking adorably rumpled – like a fluffy teddy bear. He frowned, seeing Autumn.

            "Autumn? How come you're in the hospital wing?" Blaise asked. "Did you come to visit me?"

            Autumn shook her head, then hesitated, wondering how to tell Blaise what had happened without actually _telling_ him.

            Madam Pomfrey solved the problem for her. "Miss Vance was hit by a very nasty curse," the nurse explained. "It affected her voice, so she won't be able to talk for the next day or two. She got here in the middle of last night, assisted by Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley."

            Blaise tilted his head. "They're Gryffindors," he said. He paused. "Did they curse her? She's a Slytherin, you know."

            Autumn rolled her eyes.

            "I'm fairly sure they weren't the culprits," Madam Pomfrey said dryly. "This seems to have been a rather premeditated attack."

            "Oh. Premeditated. Right." Blaise nodded sagely. "Meditation clears the mind." His expression became one of horror. "Oh, no – did it clear Autumn's mind?" He turned to her. "Autumn, do you remember anything? Do you know where you are? Quick, what's Madam Pomfrey's name?" He looked at Madam Pomfrey, panicked. "She doesn't know!" 

            Autumn rolled her eyes again, and gestured for Blaise to come closer. He did so, bending down beside her. "Autumn? Autumn, can you hear me?"

            She smacked him.

            Madam Pomfrey's cough sounded suspiciously like laughter. "I assure you, Mr. Zabini, Miss Vance's mind is as sound as it ever was. What I meant to say was that this attack was planned, rather than spur-of-the-moment, and I sincerely doubt that Miss Vance has already made such enemies of a Potter and a Weasley."

            "I don't know… Draco says they're awfully mean," Blaise said doubtfully. "They keep provoking him until he just has to be horrible to them."

            Autumn snorted at this. "The hell they do," she rasped.

            "Miss Vance!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. "Be silent! Do you want to finish that student's work and destroy your own voice?"

            Autumn shook her head, almost meekly. No, she didn't want her voice gone forever.

            Blaise seemed confused by something. "Autumn?" he asked. "Are you mad at Draco?"

            Autumn raised her eyebrows in the most sarcastic look she could manage.

            Blaise considered this, tilting his head from side to side as he did so. "Did he curse you?"

            Autumn nodded. Blaise frowned pensively, a strange expression for him.

            "Mr. Malfoy? He is the perpetrator?" Madam Pomfrey scowled. "Professor Snape will hear of this."

            Autumn shook her head.

            "Yes, he will. You Slytherins can feud all you like, but when it comes to this kind of curse, that's when the teachers have to get involved. Besides," her eyes narrowed, "I don't want you going after him yourself. That's not the way to handle these things."

            Autumn raised an eyebrow.

            "No, it's not, and don't give me that look," Madam Pomfrey said. "The teachers have to know about this."

            "Why?" Blaise spoke up.

            Madam Pomfrey turned to look at him, irritated. "Because it is our duty to keep you students safe, that's why!"

            "But everyone will think Autumn's a snitch," Blaise said. "They might hurt her. That would be… really bad. I don't want Autumn to get hurt."

            "Neither do I, I assure you," Madam Pomfrey said. "But as a faculty member of this school, it is my duty – " She stopped. Blaise's eyes were tragic, and his lower lip was quivering. "Stop that, Mr. Zabini," she ordered. "I've seen far too many pouts in my time." Blaise sniffled. "You aren't going to win this." A single tear trickled down Blaise's cheek. Madam Pomfrey sighed. "All right, Mr. Zabini – but mind you don't tell anyone about this. I'll say Miss Vance didn't inform me of her attacker's identity. Understand that, Miss Vance?" Autumn nodded. "Good. But in return, you are going to rest." She looked over at Blaise. "And _you_ are going to leave her be. You're completely healed, and you are free to go. Return to your House, and do whatever it is students do when they aren't getting themselves injured."

            Blaise nodded. "Bye, Autumn," he said. "I'll come back and see you later." He waved, walking backwards, and just barely managed to get out of the room without crashing into the wall. Autumn smiled… then frowned. Something had been odd about Blaise – ever since he'd heard that Draco had been the one to curse her. She hoped he wasn't planning to do something stupid.

            Then she dismissed the thought. After all, it was _Blaise_.

~*~

            "Would you like me to carry your books today, Draco?"

            Draco smirked as Pansy simpered at him. God, it was good to be back. "That's all right," he said offhandedly. "Asin already offered. Maybe tomorrow."

            "Oh, whenever you like," Pansy assured him, before shooting a venomous look at the other girl. Since the previous night, the two girls had been fighting to prove their loyalty to Draco – as if being the most eager to write his essays or bring him cocoa had anything to do with whether they'd been plotting to steal leadership from him.

            The door to the Common Room door opened suddenly. Draco looked up, and smiled. Zabini was back. Good. All his minions were together again.

            "Hi, Draco," Blaise said, almost shyly. Well, it made sense. The boy had been stuck in the hospital for a week, with a bloody humiliating curse. He _should_ tremble to approach Slytherin's Prince.

            "Zabini." Draco nodded graciously. "Welcome back to the Common Room. I trust your stay in the hospital wing was not too arduous."

            Blaise shook his head, biting his lip. "Um… Draco? Did you really curse Autumn Vance?"

            Draco smirked. So the news was already spreading? Excellent. "You don't doubt me, do you?"

            Blaise considered Draco for a long moment – then burst into tears. Violent, noisy, childlike tears. "You hurt Autumn! I hate you!"

            Draco stared at Blaise incredulously. Was that boy actually upset for Vance's sake?

            "Don't tell me you feel bad for her," Pansy said scornfully. "The bitch had it coming."

            Blaise glared at Pansy through his tears. "You're mean!"

            Draco and Pansy exchanged looks. "So you're that fond of Vance?" Draco asked pleasantly.

            Blaise nodded.

            "Then maybe you'd like to join her in her position as the local outcast." Draco's smile turned dangerous.

            "You could even be her outcast boyfriend," Pansy suggested.

"You might as well," Draco said ruthlessly. "You know – since Terry Boot wouldn't have you." Pansy and Draco snickered.

            Blaise froze. Then, without warning, he slapped Draco across the face. It was an extremely girly slap – girly in the sense of vicious backhand across the jaw.

            Pansy jumped to her feet. "How dare you…" she hissed.

            Blaise tilted his head at her contemplatively. "My mum told me never to hit a lady," he said disappointedly.

            Pansy smirked. "Very gallant – almost worthy of a Gryffindor."

            Blaise slapped her as well.

"Mum also said that ladies are supposed to be nice."

            And with that, he turned around and flounced out of the Common Room.

            Draco reached up and touched his cheek gingerly. Yep, he was definitely going to have a bruise there. Who knew Zabini had the balls? It had been like being attacked by a kitten – almost cute, but surprisingly painful.

            And it looked like Draco's group had lost a follower. That was depressing, especially if Zabini was finally going to start acting like a real Slytherin, instead of a would-be Hufflepuff.

            Or maybe he wasn't. As Pansy had pointed out, instant violence was more of a Gryffindor reaction than a Slytherin one. So maybe he was well rid of Zabini, after all.

            Draco stood, offering his arms to Pansy and Asin. "I believe we have Care of Magical Creatures first this morning. Why don't we go to breakfast, before suffering through that ordeal?"

            Pansy smiled at him flirtatiously. "I'd be delighted," she purred, sliding her arm through his. Asin just laughed, and slipped his other arm around her shoulders. Draco grinned. Life was good. Nothing could touch him now.

~*~

Author's Note: Blaise is quickly becoming one of my favorites in this story. *grins* Anyway, the coming attractions will include more letters, and one of the more crucial plot twists. Lianne might make an appearance, if I can drag her out from backstage. It should be one of the more fun chapters.

Disclaimer: Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling.  The song lyrics are from "Bruise Pristine" by Placebo.

Thank you everyone who reviewed!

Annae, nraasdf, kat6528, Little House Girl, San-san, KeeperOfTheMoon, Sharem, nycgal (The camp was at Kenyon College in Ohio, by the way), Dark Angel31, Leeanna-Marie-Malfoy, Suzaka (Miache's surname is the Latin word for blood – but that's the root for sanguine, so I guess that works too.), RosePetal77, Crazy Courtney, rowan sapphire, Kalika Aryn, SunsetOfAGypsy, Tera Earth, EriEka127, Fluffy The Teddy Bear Slayer, AerinBrown, Andrea Heidem, starbrite23, Fate, fyrechild, Madame Moony, Seba, Allie-2003, draicana, Megs, AdGe, Accalia2.

Ok. I've noticed a bunch of people commenting on the same things, so I decided to go ahead and address them. Hence, this extra note.

Enter Hazel.

Hazel: Hi, everyone. Yes, that's right, I'm here, by popular request. Everyone keeps asking about me. Unfortunately, Mysti hates me and has cast me into the fires of Mount Doom to prevent me from influencing the rest of her story.

A stagehand runs out. There is some muffled muttering between him and Hazel.

Hazel: Oh. Right then. Sorry, bit of a correction. I'm currently taking a short break. You won't be seeing me for the next several chapters, unless Mysti drags me out to make me speak for her again. She assures me that there is a good reason for this – something about not wanting to spoil the ending of Autumn's part of the story. I don't really understand. Honestly, I think she makes it up as she goes along.

Lightning flashes down to smite Hazel, but is deflected at the last second.

Hazel: Heh. Can't smite a main character, can you? Anyway, item two. The difference in times, and why Lianne didn't notice. Hmm. Actually, that's a tough one. Mysti? Why didn't Li notice?

Enter Lianne.

Lianne: Hi, Hazel! Are we talking about time travel now?

Hazel: Yes. So, Li, why didn't you notice that huge time difference?

Lianne: Didn't I explain that? Could've sworn I did… Well, I thought the wizarding world had a different calendar than the normal world.

Hazel: That's really stupid.

Lianne: Hey, in case you haven't noticed, _I'm_ a really stupid character. Oh, sure, I'm in a room full of evil werewolves, who can track people by scent, and I decide to hide by stepping behind Snape? Yeesh, Blaise is brighter than I am.

Hazel: I suppose it is a somewhat plausible idea… After all, most civilizations do develop their own calendar systems. Besides, we Muggles don't usually think of time travel as a possible explanation for events.

Lianne: So, on to item three – why is Erin shacking up with Remus?

Enter Erin.

Erin: You know, you could have phrased it differently. Shacking up… that's really vulgar.

Lianne: And true.

Erin: Yes, all right, and true. So we're living together. There was an explanation for this, too, and if Mysti wasn't so lazy and would post chapters closer together, the connection would probably be clearer. Priests won't perform a marriage that includes a vampire.

Hazel: So… why didn't you just have the legal part of the marriage, then?

Erin: Well, because… there was… we didn't…. You know what? I have no idea. I blame Remus.

Hazel: Not Mysti?

Erin: And her. I think the three of us need to have a little discussion.

Erin marches off in search of Remus and Mysti, who are cowering behind Mysti's sofa.

Hazel: So… that's everything, then?

Lianne: Looks like it. Hope this note wasn't too painful. If it was, let us know, and we'll poke Mysti with pointy sticks if she tries anything like it again.

Hazel: Bye, everyone! See you many chapters later!

Hazel and Lianne disappear in a puff of smoke.

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	22. To the Letter

Dreaming of You

Author's Note: Ok, so the one chapter per month idea didn't work out. I guess it was only wishful thinking, anyway. Ah, well. But the good news is that I've finally gotten past the stumbling block scene that's been refusing to be written for the last couple chapters.

And for those of you interested, the translation of Draco's spell in the last chapter is "May she who is foul reap the poison she has sown and eat her poisonous words." Or, it should be, anyway.

And thank you to Merry, my beta! *waves*

**_Part 21 – To the Letter_**

_The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed._

**Chapter 35**

            "I guess you don't listen to advice too well." Mandy sat on the edge of Autumn's bed in the hospital wing. "Didn't I say I didn't want to have to come visit you in the hospital wing?"

            Autumn just shrugged. It wasn't as though she could really say much, after all.

            "You'll be happy to know your pet rat is safe," Mandy added, ignoring Autumn's vehement and irritated gestures indicating that her ferret was _not_ a rat. "Your so-wonderful roommates wanted to drown it, but they made the mistake of trying it in the girls' bathroom by the Ravenclaw dorms. Su Li walked in on them, and from what I heard they got quite the earful on cruelty to animals. She threatened to jinx them till they couldn't see straight if she ever caught them doing it again." Mandy sighed wistfully. "I wish I could've seen it."

            Autumn grinned. Anything that made Pansy Parkinson and Asin Greengrass squirm was a good thing in her book. And she was glad her ferret was ok.

            "So anyway, Madam Pomfrey says you get to leave her clutches in the morning," Mandy said. "Guess you aren't as charming as Blaise – she kept him a whole week, after all." She frowned. "Speaking of Blaise – did you know he was going to do something that dramatic?"

            Autumn blinked. Blaise had done something dramatic? News to her.

            Mandy frowned. "Don't tell me you didn't hear," she said incredulously. "Well, I guess since you're stuck in bed… but still. Tracey Davis saw it, and she told her boyfriend, Jared Fraco, in Hufflepuff, and he told his sister, Pamela, in Gryffindor, and she spread it all round her dorm room, so Ginny Weasley heard, and she told her brother, who told Lavender Brown, who told Parvati Patil, who told Padma Patil, who told me."

            Autumn stared. How was it that Mandy had a pedigree for every bit of information that she found? And why did she feel she had to relate that pedigree to everyone she spoke to? Was it a Ravenclaw thing? And just what was it that Blaise had done, anyway?

            "Of course, that isn't really the fastest I've ever seen news spread," Mandy said thoughtfully, apparently not noticing Autumn's gestures to get on with it. "You should've heard the grapevines a couple years ago – there was this contest, the Triwizard Tournament, and… well, this thing was left in the dust, that's all I have to say. Anyway, I was talking about Blaise, wasn't I?"

            Autumn nodded.

            "Right. Blaise," Mandy said. "He slapped Draco Malfoy. For you, if Padma has it right. Quite gallant, especially for a Slytherin. He seems to have quite the loyal streak." She shook her head. "I could really get to like that boy. Pity Terry has to crush his innocent and unsuspecting heart beneath the heel of his boot."

            Autumn's response was to roll her eyes. Even without speaking, she could still make sure that her feelings were known.

            "True," Mandy conceded. "Knowing Blaise, he'd probably consider it a vow of lifelong devotion. And speaking of the lovebirds," she smirked, "I still have to arrange their meeting. Guess I'll go ahead and do that now." She paused for thought. "I wonder how Terry will try to kill me. Maybe I can learn some new curses. Always useful." She waved cheerfully. "See you tomorrow."

            Autumn waved back as Mandy left. She glanced at the clock. It was seven minutes after the Ravenclaw had arrived. Mandy never stayed anywhere long, did she? Well, at least she'd given Autumn plenty of new things to think about. It was unbelievably boring, this not being allowed to talk.

            So Blaise hit Malfoy? Good for him. Autumn's only regret was that he'd beaten her to it. When she got out of here, she fully intended to give Malfoy what he had coming to him. She couldn't believe she'd ever had a crush on that cretin.

            Well… ok, maybe she could believe it. If she weren't the one he'd chosen to torment, she'd have thought he was being rather clever. Revenge was only sensible, after all, and he'd certainly aimed to make a lasting impression on his intended victim and his audience.

            But since she was the victim, she was in no mood to be impressed. After what he'd done to her, Draco Malfoy was the last person in Britain she'd ever consider having a romantic relationship with.

            Autumn had no intention of letting Malfoy get away with cursing her this badly. She'd get her revenge on him, all right… but it couldn't be something violent. She didn't want Madam Pomfrey to know about it, after all.

            With her mind turned thus towards thoughts of vengeance, Autumn smiled.

~*~

            The Owlery was one of Draco's favorite places in Hogwarts.

            Not that he would ever tell this to anyone, of course. It wouldn't do to show that much weakness to the Slytherins, even if there didn't seem to be any way they could use it against him. It could be viewed as a crack in an otherwise smooth façade, and what is cracked is all the more easily broken.

            But even if he refused to admit it to others, Draco still liked the Owlery. The soft whispers of feathers, the dim lighting, the high and low calls of the different species. Even for Hogwarts, it was otherworldly, as though the owls, not the wizards, ruled this space. It was somehow comforting to step into the realm of glittering eyes and rustling feathers, where life could be as simple as the flash of viciously curved talons following a swoop in the night.

            Draco had discovered how much he liked this little-noticed room in his fifth year, when his father had started sending messages of the sort that should not be received at breakfast, under Dumbledore's watchful eye. He began to visit the Owlery to get his letters in the evening, and to enjoy the peace that came only when he was away from all other people.

            Entering the Owlery that evening, Draco wasn't particularly surprised to get a visit from Muut, the Malfoy family owl. He knew that there had been a Death Eater meeting that day, and his father almost always sent instructions after those meetings. Draco was rather hoping for more information about that Witness spying at Hogwarts. He would give a lot to be able to figure out who she was.

            Taking the letter marked with the Malfoy family crest, Draco didn't bother to pat Muut. The last time he'd tried it, he'd nearly lost a finger.

            He headed over to what looked like a space of shadowed wall, but was actually a small side chamber, used mostly for storing the owls' food. Draco doubted anyone but Filch knew it was there. Certainly he'd never seen anyone else in it. And that made it ideal for reading these letters. Letters of this sort should be in Hogwarts for as short a time as possible.

            Leaning against the wall of the chamber, Draco slit the letter open and read his father's words.

Draco – 

            I have rarely had occasion to be so disappointed in you. I might have overlooked your disgusting display of weakness over the past few days, slipping enough to allow your housemates the chance to usurp your authority, but this morning, when news of the full extent of your unconscionable behavior reached me, I was appalled that my son would act in such a manner.

            The Witness is most displeased with your actions towards her – enough so that she voiced these feelings to the Master. She states that, despite her previous interest in you, you have treated her with "the utmost contempt and scorn," rejecting all overtures she has made. Clearly, my command to make her think well of you was lost in flight.

            I suggest you seek out the Witness again, and convince her that your previous behavior was not meant to be interpreted as she assumed. And I trust that I need not elaborate on the consequences of failing to return to her good graces.

            Reply at once by way of your owl, lest you wish to incur my further displeasure.

 – _Lucius_

            Draco stared at the letter in shock. Just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, he read it again. And again. No, the words were still the same. His father was angry with him. Not just angry, by the sound of it – furious. And Draco had no idea why.

            He'd upset the Witness? Draco shook his head, trying to get over his shock. How had he done that? He didn't even know who the Witness _was_!

            Well, at least now he should be able to figure it out. All he had to do was figure out who he'd upset in the past few days.

            Who he'd upset…

            Draco went pale. _No_. He groaned. _No, no, no, no, nononono. This is not happening. This can't be happening._ He covered his eyes with one hand, wishing that the world would just go away. _I didn't just curse the daylights out of the Dark Lord's Witness. I didn't._

            No response came to his thoughts. Not that he'd expected one of the owls to pipe up with some life-changing advice, or anything. But when the universe refused to take pity on him and let him spontaneously combust, he reluctantly took another look at the letter. Maybe – maybe – there was still some way he could salvage the situation. Or maybe he'd interpreted it wrong – maybe Vance wasn't the Witness.

            Maybe the Hufflepuffs would rise up and storm Snape's dungeons demanding fair and equal treatment.

            Draco flung the parchment on the floor in despair. How could he not have realized it? Vance and the Witness had even appeared on the scene at practically the same time. It was a dead giveaway. That was probably why Professor Miache paid so much attention to Vance – keeping an eye on her for Dumbledore's Circle.

            But she was such an unlikely candidate! That was why Draco had never considered her. A friendless American Mudblood, one of Dumbledore's charity cases, barely able to function in the wizarding world…

            Then again, who better to spy for the Dark Lord? The girl was getting one-on-one sessions with about half the Hogwarts staff, and no one thought twice about her questioning the way the school worked since she'd been brought up a Muggle.

            Come to that, who was to say she had been? All the evidence for that was her word. Perhaps the Dark Lord had supporters in America, and she was their daughter. The girl could be anyone – a Pureblood American, a British girl with excellent acting skills, even an adult using the Polyjuice Potion. After all, that Moody impersonator got away with it for a whole year without anyone noticing.

            Not that that made Draco feel any better. Why, why, _why_ hadn't he noticed something odd about that girl before he'd gone and cursed her? He should have noticed. Looking back, she was the only person in the school the Witness could be. Everyone else had been there too long. That was probably why his father hadn't told him who the Witness was – it was so obvious he should have figured it out for himself at once. He should have been spending these past few days convincing Vance of his best qualities, not antagonizing her and trying to choke her.

            And to think, it actually sounded like the girl had started out liking him! He scanned the letter again. Yes, it definitely implied that she'd quite liked him. And that fit, too. He'd been the one to start their rivalry, not her. And all those phone calls from America – she'd been cultivating him as a potential ally, and he'd insulted and spurned her. He'd quite literally flung her offers back in her face.

            For one brief moment, Draco wondered what would happen if he just walked over to the edge of the Owlery loft, and then took one more step off into nothingness. Then he dismissed that solution as useless posturing, worthy only of a Gryffindor. There was always another way. It wasn't just a Slytherin belief – it was a Malfoy belief. Nothing was ever completely over.

            Draco firmly banished the thoughts of whining despair from his mind. Yes, he'd been stupid. Yes, the situation was bad. But he wasn't making it any better by moping. If he meant to improve relations with the Witness – with Vance – he'd better have a plan.

            He looked the letter over again, this time concentrating on the nuances of every word. Lucius excelled in hidden meanings, and Draco knew he'd better find each and every one of them. Then he thought back to his conversations with Vance – all of them, starting with when he'd first spoken to her on that wretched Muggle telephone – trying to figure out her opinions of him, and how they'd changed.

            The realizations were not good. Not good at all.

~*~

            Autumn's return to the Slytherin fold after her stay in the hospital wing was disappointingly anticlimactic, at least when she first entered the Great Hall in the morning for breakfast. Apparently, the students from the other three Houses hadn't even noticed she'd been gone. The only effect her entrance had was to fuel the rumors that Autumn and Blaise were an item, since he had insisted on escorting her on the long and perilous journey from the hospital wing to the Great Hall.

            Neither of them noticed that anything was out of the ordinary until they tried to sit down. Autumn had automatically moved towards Tabitha's side of the table, pointedly ignoring Draco and his minions, but the seats seemed to fill up just as she reached them. After the third person abruptly found a stack of books to occupy the adjoining chair, Autumn lost her temper.

            "Ok, what is going on?" she demanded. "If you don't want me to sit down, at least have the decency to tell me about it!"

            "We're Slytherins," Millicent Bulstrode said. "We don't do decency."

            "You got burned is what happened," Tracey Davis said. "Malfoy got you in front of the whole Common Room. You're radiating bad luck faster than a room full of broken mirrors. No one wants you sitting by them. Blaise can sit here, though. That was a beautiful slap."

            "Wait," Autumn said. "Let me get this straight. Draco Malfoy curses me, I spend a day healing, and then come back to find I'm not allowed to sit because I got cursed? Is there something wrong with that logic, or is it me?"

            "It's Slytherin politics, is what it is," Tabitha said calmly. "Do try to get used to it, dear. Oh, and find somewhere else to sit, please. I need to study, and you're blocking my light."

            At that, Autumn very nearly lost it completely and punched Tabitha. It wasn't any kind of prudence that stopped her, of course. Had Autumn been left to herself, Tabitha would have had a black eye.

            Fortunately, Mandy got there in time to stop Autumn from creating any more of a scene. "I heard you were looking for your pet, Autumn," she said, putting an arm around the other girl's shoulders in a manner that seemed to be entirely casual, showing no hint of the viselike grip she was actually exerting. "Why don't you come over to the Ravenclaw table? You can pick it up, have some breakfast, and Nott here can get her nice tan. Everyone wins."

            Since it was clear from Mandy's grip that she wasn't about to let Autumn pick a fight and get landed in the hospital wing _again_, Autumn allowed herself to be led to the Ravenclaw table, Blaise trailing behind, apparently in the hopes that he would be permitted to speak with the elusive Terry Boot.

            "Don't hit people," Mandy said under her breath. "Especially not people known for their quick curse reflexes. Honestly, I thought you had at least that much sense."

            Before Autumn could respond, Mandy steered her to a seat. "Here we go," she said. "Sit. Stay. I'll bring Su over. She's the one who's got your rat." Autumn scowled at that. Mandy grinned.

            As Mandy left, Autumn and Blaise sat down, looking at the Ravenclaws with interest. Contrary to Autumn's expectations, there wasn't less chatter than at the other tables – if anything, there was more. Every topic under the sun seemed to be under discussion, from Obliviation ethics, to the relative merits of love potions versus love charms, to the incredible inaccuracy of the American television show _Charmed_, to several betting pools on how long various student relationships would last. 

            Eventually, Mandy returned, bringing with her a sweet-looking Chinese girl who was holding Autumn's ferret. Autumn quickly reclaimed her pet, letting him run up her arm to sit on her shoulder.

            "Su Li, Autumn Vance, Blaise Zabini," Mandy said. "Consider yourselves introduced."

            "That's not nice at all, Mandy," Su said reproachfully. She smiled at Autumn. "It's very nice to meet you. We've all heard quite a lot about you."

            Considering the way the Ravenclaws gossiped, Autumn would just bet they'd heard about her. "So you rescued my ferret, huh? Thanks. I guess I owe you one."

            Su grinned at that. "Good. I'll make a note of it. But really, it was a pleasure to take care of such a sweet ferret. We don't often see them as pets around here. But honestly, you didn't really name the poor thing after Draco Malfoy, did you?"

            "It was kind of a spur of the moment thing," Autumn said, feeling a little guilty at having so cursed the innocent creature. "Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret. I'm thinking about nicknaming him, though. That's a mouthful."

            "And a half," Su agreed. "Drake, perhaps? Or… or Bouncy?"

            "I think you should call him Mali," Blaise pronounced, peering at the ferret. "He looks like a Mali. It's all in the eyes."

            "Mali, huh?" Autumn shrugged. "As good a name as any. Ok, then. Mali it is."

            Su and Mandy both got fits of the giggles at that. "I can't wait to see Draco Malfoy's face at that," Su said. "What a sight that will be. Do try to tell him about it in a public place. I think he might just turn purple."

            "That would look nice with his hair," Blaise mused.

            "Wouldn't it?" Su said. "And then Mandy could get some pictures of it, for the Magical Photography class she's forever suffering in." She shook her head woefully. "You ought to have joined me in Wizardry Across the Globe, Mandy. You would have quite liked it."

            "That's a good class," Blaise agreed. "Terry's in that class. Tuesdays, right after lunch."

            "And that was in no way disturbing," Mandy said. "Thank you, stalker boy."

            Blaise smiled, a little confused. "You're welcome, Mandy. But speaking of Terry – "

            "Yes, I know, I promised." Mandy sighed. "I'm working on it, ok?"

            "He won't see you," Su translated. "And he's told Mandy that if she ever brings it up again, he'll turn you both to Siamese fighting fish and put you in the same tank."

            "Well, that doesn't sound too bad," Blaise said. "I mean, I'd get to be in a tank with Mandy, so that would be ok. We could have fishy conversations. And the tank could be in Terry's dorm room! Maybe this means he's finally realizing his true feelings!" His eyes lit up.

            Autumn, Su, and Mandy exchanged glances. "So is he faking it?" Su asked. "Or is he actually this dumb?"

            "I think it's for real," Autumn said. "I don't think anyone could fake this."

            "He's so cute, though," Su said, smiling benevolently at Blaise. "Like a puppy I had once." She patted Blaise on the head. "Nice Blaise. Good boy. It really is too bad you're so sweet. Terry will rip you apart."

            "Terry wouldn't rip anyone apart," Blaise exclaimed, eyes wide. "Terry is a good person!"

            This caused approximately half of the Ravenclaw table to choke on whatever they were eating at the moment. Several mouthfuls of pumpkin juice were sprayed across the table as people coughed.

            "You really are just innocent, aren't you?" Su said, shaking her head. "Well, I wish you luck, of course. And now I have to get back to my studying. If I don't work on my Divination now, I'll end up fabricating all my homework for that class, like those wretched Gryffindors do." She nodded to each of them, including Mali the ferret, and headed back to her original seat.

            "What did she mean, I'm innocent, Autumn?" Blaise asked. "Was I supposed to be guilty? I didn't think I did anything bad. And why did everyone start coughing? Are they getting sick? Maybe they need to go to the hospital wing."

            "Don't worry about it, Blaise," Autumn advised.

            "Ok." He started to shrug, then froze in place, staring fixedly at the entrance to the Great Hall. Curious, Autumn turned to look at what had caught Blaise's attention. Even though she rather thought she could guess what – or rather, _who_ – it had to be.

            The young man who had just entered the Great Hall looked, above all other things, grumpy. That was the first thing Autumn noticed about him. He had a scowl on his face dark enough to douse candles. He also had a trench coat. That was the second thing she noticed. It was a great coat, too – long, flowing, lots of unnecessary straps and buckles. Very sexy. It fit with the antisocial air he projected. He made his way to the Ravenclaw table, radiating resentment that he should have to be awake and moving about at such an ungodly hour of the morning.

            There was an empty space on the corner of the table Terry first reached. He dropped into it. Autumn rather got the impression that he would have done so whether someone was already sitting there or not. Groping at the table in front of him, Terry managed to get hold of the mug of steaming liquid that had been set there. He then proceeded to drink the entire cup, apparently without looking at it, scorching his tongue and throat, or breathing. He blinked bleakly at the mug when he realized it was empty, then put his head on the table and went to sleep.

            Blaise sighed. "I love it when he does that."

            Autumn frowned. "Does what? Drinks stuff without looking to see if it's poisonous?"

            "Yes. He's so brave," Blaise said. "And you saw the way he walks, right? I like the way he walks. Like – like a thing that walks really well."

            "Yeah," Autumn said, her tone noncommittal. She had indeed seen Terry's walk. It reminded her of snakes and running water, even in his half awake state. She was starting to believe what everyone said, about Terry being quite willing to crush Blaise's still-beating heart beneath his boots. He looked the type. She wasn't quite sure what Blaise saw in Terry. Unless it was the good looks, of course. Then she understood perfectly.

            Either way, things did not look good for Blaise. The poor boy was well and truly smitten with a guy who wears a trench coat, and such things rarely work out well.

            Autumn stood abruptly, making a decision. "I'll be right back," she said. Then she looked at Blaise. "Stay here." With that, she headed over to where Terry was sitting, and sat in one of the empty chairs surrounding him.

            "That seat's taken," Terry grumbled, without opening his eyes.

            "People keep telling me that," Autumn said. "I've decided not to listen." She leaned forward and poked Terry. "Wake up."

            Terry actually opened his eyes and peered up at her, startled. Apparently, people had learned not to disturb him while he was waking up. "What do you want?"

            "To talk to you," Autumn said impatiently. "What, did you think I came over here for the view?"

            "It's too early for sarcasm." Terry put his head back down.

            Autumn poked Terry again, more violently, until he responded with an angry glare. "I said, wake up. We're going to talk. If you fall asleep again, I may have to hit you."

            "I'll curse you," Terry said, eyes narrowing.

            "And then I'll hit you again," Autumn said, quite cheerfully. "I'd like to hit something. I've been extremely annoyed lately. I think expressing my emotions would be good for me."

            "Violence doesn't solve problems," Terry said, irritated.

            "Oh, you'd be amazed at what violence can solve." Autumn smiled. "So are you ready to talk?"

            "If I talk to you now, will you go away and let me sleep when you're through?" Terry wanted to know.

            "Sure," Autumn said agreeably. "And to make things even easier on you, I'll keep the conversation simple. Your participation will be a bare minimum. I'll talk, and you'll agree with everything I say. Got it?"

            "What happens if I don't agree?" Terry asked. "Just a hypothetical question, mind."

            "Then I'll hit you," Autumn said.

            "You like that solution, don't you?" Terry sighed. "Go ahead, then."

            "Ok," Autumn said. "Now, you know Blaise Zabini, right?"

            "The kid I cursed a week or so ago, isn't he?" Terry said, frowning. "Yeah, the one who keeps stalking me. Sure, I know him."

            "Good. So you'd like to meet him, be properly introduced to him, and talk to him for an hour or so?" Autumn said.

            Terry blinked a couple times. "Did Mandy send you over?" he asked finally.

            "No," Autumn said. "I sent me."

            "Then I'll repeat myself," Terry said. "I don't want to meet that kid. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want anything to do with him. Keep him away from me or I'll turn him into a rabbit and cut off his feet to sell as good-luck charms. Are we clear?"

            "No, clear will be when you agree to do what I tell you," Autumn said. "Do you really want me to hit you? Because I've just been cursed, and I have got plenty of anger energy."

            "I expect you have," Terry said. "What do you care about Zabini?"

            "I don't want him to be unhappy," Autumn said promptly.

            "So you want him to meet me?" Terry raised an eyebrow. "Because I warn you, making him happy is not high on my list of priorities."

            "Kinda figured that." Autumn shrugged. "Look, Blaise likes you. You don't know how happy it will make him just to be around you for a little while, with you actually speaking to him. You being nice would be a great bonus, but noticing his existence is all you've got to do. One hour. Can you give him that?"

            Terry considered this. "What's in it for me?"

            "I go away and leave you alone," Autumn said. Terry looked dubious about this reward. "Ok, or possibly chocolate."

            "Are you bribing me?" Terry wanted to know.

            "Is that what it's going to take?" Autumn asked.

            "Does it count if I notice his existence by cursing him? Because I don't know if I can take an hour of his prattling." Terry rubbed his temples, as if he was getting a headache just thinking about it. "If it comes to that, I don't like you talking to me, either. You've had your say. Go away now."

            "We've covered this," Autumn said. "The answer's no." Looking at Terry, the epitome of Not a Morning Person, she suddenly got an idea. "So what is it that you were drinking earlier?"

            "What?" Terry blinked, thrown by the rapid change of subject. "Tea, of course. What else do you drink in the morning?"

            "How about coffee?" Autumn suggested.

            Terry scowled. "You can't get coffee here. Too American."

            "What if I told you I could get you a pot of coffee every morning?" Autumn asked. "Lots and lots of lovely caffeine to pump through your bloodstream?"

            This idea seemed to appeal to Terry. But there was still the consideration of Blaise.

            "Only one hour," Autumn reminded him. "Think of it as a job. That's more than a pot of coffee for every minute you spend with him."

            "I can see that," Terry grumbled. "I'm not that tired." He sighed. "All right. I can live with that. What time should I come?"

            "Well…" Autumn frowned, thinking it over. "Maybe it would be better if we waited till weekend. How does Saturday afternoon sound?"

            "As long as it isn't before two," Terry said. "I'm not waking up early for this."

            "Before two is early?" Autumn shook her head. "How about four, then? You can be all nice and rested. We'll meet in…" She hesitated, reviewing the list of places she could find.

            "How about the Astronomy classroom?" Terry said. "We have all our classes on the roof, anyway, so Sinistra never uses it. It should be empty."

            "Fine," Autumn said. "Four o'clock, Saturday, Astronomy classroom." She stood. "My work here is done."

            "Good." Terry put his head back down and, to all appearances, went back to sleep.

            Autumn shook her head, and went back to Blaise and Mandy. "All settled," she announced.

            "What is?" Mandy asked.

            "Saturday, at four, in the Astronomy classroom," Autumn said. "Terry says he'll be there for one hour, and that he'll talk to Blaise. He – oof!" Autumn gasped as Blaise flung his arms around her.

            "Thank you thank you thank you! You're the bestest Autumn ever! Anywhere!" Blaise squeezed Autumn until she coughed and choked from lack of air. Then he pulled away, beaming. "I'd kiss you, except you're all girly and stuff, and I don't think either of us would like it."

            "Thank you," Autumn said. "Please don't kiss me."

            "Can I hug you again?" Blaise asked.

            "No," Autumn said, and Blaise wilted. "Maybe later." He grinned again, and hugged her anyway.

            "So how, exactly, did you pull this off?" Mandy wanted to know. "You weren't over there long enough to really debate it."

            "There wasn't really a debate," Autumn said. "There was a little bit of an argument, but it was mostly him wanting to sleep and me wanting to hit him because he wouldn't do what I wanted. We managed to compromise."

            "You threatened Terry?" Blaise stared at Autumn, hurt. "You wouldn't really hit him, would you?"

            "Depends," Autumn said shortly. "If he doesn't show, I'm thinking that hitting will definitely come into play. Or if he makes you cry."

            "Not to be all negative, but isn't that a bit Gryff-like?" Mandy said, raising an eyebrow. "Using violence?"

            "Shouldn't think so," Autumn said. "From what I can see, they use violence as a last resort. But after being here a few days, I've decided there's a fatal flaw in that theory. Violence as the first resort definitely seems to get results much faster."

            "I take it back, o child of Slytherin." Mandy bowed ironically.

            Autumn grinned, leaning back in her chair. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this place."

~*~

            Draco had thought that seeing Autumn Vance around the school was annoying. That was before he realized that, in fact, it was far more annoying not to see her. Especially when he wanted to find her. It was that schedule of hers. She didn't have classes with anyone else.

            Eventually, Draco realized, he was going to have to break down and do it. He was going to have to ask someone where he could find her. And it couldn't be a student, either. The only ones who might know were Brocklehurst and Zabini, and after he'd gone and cursed Vance those two weren't likely to tell him anything.

            That left the professors, or at least the ones who'd taken up teaching Vance. Pity that Snape hadn't, he wouldn't have given Draco much trouble. Well, he couldn't ask Sprout, she'd made it quite clear that she couldn't stand him, and Flitwick was just strange. Draco didn't bother considering Miache. That left Stellarum and Deva, which wasn't a hard choice at all. Draco didn't want to deal with the Muggle Studies professor if he could help it.

            After his Ancient Runes class, Draco hung around as the room emptied. Asin and Pansy seemed to want to stay with him, now that he was back on his throne, but he managed to distract them by pulling a rose out of his wand for each girl. It had a touch of the distasteful feel of a Muggle magician, but it did get rid of Pansy and Asin. They hurried out to safely store their roses in their rooms, arguing about whether the red or the coral was lovelier.

            With the girls out of the way, Draco headed up to the front of the classroom. "Professor Deva?"

            She looked up at him from where she was seated at her desk. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Mr. Malfoy?"

            "I'd like to ask you a question," Draco said. Mentally, he cursed. Was there anyone in the school who wasn't angry with him?

            "Well? Get on with it," Deva said.

            "Right." Draco hastily cast about for another topic. If Deva was upset with him, he didn't want to jump right into asking for a favor. "I was wondering what would happen if you made a physical representation of a rune."

            "Beg pardon?" Deva frowned, confused.

            "Well, we've mostly been talking about the powers of runes when you invoke them," Draco said, warming to his topic. "You know, by speaking their names. But what about if you made a rune out of wood, or if you drew it on an object. Would that be different?"

            "Yes, actually, it would," Deva said, smiling in spite of herself. "That gives the physical representation the properties of the rune. We won't be trying it till next year, though, because you need a firm grasp of the runes before you can manage. It's complicated – transfiguration and charms, as well as rune knowledge – but it's quite interesting."

            "It sounds like it," Draco said. "I'll be looking forward to that."

            "Good," Deva said. "I'm glad you're so interested in this class, Mr. Malfoy. You have no idea how much nicer it is to teach responsive students. Speaking of which," she glanced at her clock, "you ought to be getting to your next class, so you can respond to that one."

            "Right," Draco said, heading for the door. Before he got there, he looked casually over his shoulder. "Oh, and professor?"

            "Hmm?" Deva said absently.

            "Do you know where Autumn Vance would be today, at any time? I was hoping to talk to her, but I can never remember that schedule of hers."

            "It is complicated, isn't it?" Deva said. "Well, you could try around Professor Miache's classroom, she's usually there. Or – yes, today's Wednesday – or you could try the greenhouses, near the end of the school day. That's Professor Sprout's free period, so Miss Vance should be there then."

            "Great." Draco grinned as he left the room. "Thank you very much, Professor Deva. You have no idea how helpful you've been."

~*~

            "All right, Miss Vance, that seems to be enough for today," Sprout said. "Why don't you write me an essay on the types of plants that can repel offensive magic, for next time? You don't need to go into too much detail – a foot or so should be fine."

            "Right," Autumn said. She gathered up her books and put them in her bag. "See you in a few days, then." She left, rather relieved that she was through for the day, or at least till the evening. Miache was taking her to the roof for Astronomy lessons at eleven, since Sinistra wasn't interested in helping.

            Walking among the greenhouses as she headed back towards the school, Autumn was considering her essay – should she group the plants by their properties, or by the types of magic they repelled? – when someone grabbed her from behind and swung her into the nearest greenhouse.

            "The hell?" Autumn spun around, eyes blazing, to see Draco Malfoy closing the door behind her. "Oh, you are so gonna die, mister!"

            "I really hope not," Draco said calmly. "Then I wouldn't get a chance to tell you what an impressive response you had to my curse."

            Autumn stared at him. Was he insane? "What are you talking about?"

            "Oh, yes, it was quite remarkable," Draco said. "You got yourself all the way to the hospital wing, and your voice isn't even showing the effects now. I thought it would last at least three more days. You're very resilient, it seems." He smiled engagingly at her.

            Autumn blinked. Draco had a very nice smile – that she was not looking at. She scowled blackly. "If you're trying to talk me out of revenge, it isn't going to work."

            "I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing," Draco said. "I know how this game works. And I know that you, of all people, know as well." He winked, his smile curving enigmatically.

            What the hell? Autumn tried to think what he could possibly be talking about. And she told herself that it was not at all hard to think when he smiled at her. She wished he'd go back to scowling and insulting her. It was much less confusing.

            "Look," she said finally, "I don't know what you want, but whatever it is, I don't really care. I'm sick of dealing with you – I'm sick of looking at you! – and I've had a long day. I'm not really in the mood to bruise my fist on your face, so I'm just going to leave and pretend this conversation never happened."

            "It'll be interesting to see how you're going to do that," Draco said meditatively. "What with me blocking the door and all."

            Autumn couldn't believe it. "You're actually refusing to let me leave? Do you want me to hit you?"

            "If you want to, go ahead," Draco said. "Then Tabitha and her friends would let you back at the Slytherin table. It's disgraceful, you having to sit with the Ravenclaws."

            "I think someone hit you already," Autumn said. "With a brick. Are you insane? You hate me, remember?"

            "Oh, I don't hate you," Draco said, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "How could I hate someone so intelligent, and devious? I just have a position to maintain. You must understand that."

            "So you tried to ruin my voice, and you _don't_ hate me?" Autumn said incredulously. "I'd hate to see what you do to people you really don't like."

            "Actually," Draco said, a smirk sliding over his lips, "I rather think you'd enjoy it. It's quite entertaining. Though I'm sure you know many more ways to wreak havoc than I do."

            "Yeah?" Autumn frowned, trying to figure out whether that was an insult. Surely Draco wouldn't compliment her… would he?

            "Oh, yes." Draco's smile deepened, and he reached forward to catch her hand in his. "Chaos… mayhem… destruction and terror… you know all of it. I can see it in you. You could topple the world in the blink of an eye, with your power."

            Draco was far too close to her as he said this, Autumn decided. She really ought to push him away. And hit him. She'd been waiting to hit someone all day, and this moment was the perfect opportunity, what with Draco invading her personal space and all. She would hit him. She was just waiting for the right moment, when he least expected it. That was all.

            "Your power," Draco whispered, stepping even closer. "Dark and terrible, in its wonder."

            And without warning, Draco swooped down and brought his mouth to hers. Autumn froze. She was dreaming. She had to be. This was some sort of bizarre flashback to her crush on Draco, which she was of course completely over by now. Because Draco Malfoy would not do this. He would not drag her into a greenhouse and kiss her, her first kiss, in a way that felt really, really good. He wouldn't move his mouth against hers as though he wanted her, or pull her close to him, or put his hands around her waist – 

            Autumn shoved him away, coming back to her senses in a flash. Before Draco could do anything, she punched him in the eye. And then on the nose.

            "What – " Draco started coughing, blood flowing out of his nose and getting into his mouth.

            "How dare you!" Autumn snarled. "You put your mouth on me, you – you – you filthy thing! Don't you do that again! Ever! _Ever_! Or I'll do worse than hit you! I'll pull out your ribcage and wear it as a hat! I'll cut off your balls with a rusty butter knife and wear them as earrings! I'll remove other parts of your body and figure out ways to wear them! So keep your dirty paws off me! Or else!"

            Autumn shoved Draco aside and stalked out of the greenhouse, her face burning and her fist aching. She couldn't believe he'd done that. It had been horrible. Worse than the voice curse. It had been gross, and terrible, and disgusting, and bad on so many levels. It had been humiliating. 

            But the worst part was that it had also been really nice.

**Interlude 35.5**

Dear Lianne,

            Never write to me again. Or at least, don't go on about Draco Malfoy, if you have to write. I think you jinxed me or something.

            You _didn't_ jinx me, did you? If you did, you'd better un-jinx me, because it is definitely not cool. I'd threaten you, but I just used up all my good threats on Malfoy.

            Assuming you had nothing to do with what happened, you probably want to know he did. Well, I'll tell you what he did – he kissed me, that's what he did! And don't you dare go getting all excited. He cursed me and put me in the hospital wing for a full day just before. He's a jerk. I should've blacked both his eyes.

            Anyway, done with the ranting. Yes, Hogwarts is fun, yes, it's great, no, I don't have any questions, yay Slytherin, yay Hufflepuff. That should cover everything you said in your letter. Oh, and Blaise Zabini says to tell you hello. And he wants to know where you got the toucan. For that matter, so do I.

            I don't really like letters, so I guess this is it. Talk to you later.

 – Autumn

~*~

Mrs. Black – 

            I understand that you and Miss Vance know each other from America, just as you know Ms. Connor. A situation has come up for which I require the details of your previous acquaintance. It is imperative that Miss Vance's origins be understood in as much detail as possible.

            Thank you for you cooperation. I will expect to hear from you within the week.

 – Miache Sanguinis

~*~

Ms. Connor – 

            Miache Sanguinis informs me that she has already written to Mrs. Black on this topic, so my letter should not come as much of a surprise to you. I am inquiring about Miss Vance's origins in America. Who is she, and how is it that she knows so much about the wizarding world? Are you entirely sure that she is the same girl that you knew in America? And if so, where was she the summer you arrived in Britain? I was under the impression that your former life had vanished entirely.

 – Severus Snape

~*~

Draco – 

            It seems you are not a lost cause after all. You are at least beginning to restore yourself to the good graces of the Witness. I suggest you continue on whatever course you have begun, as she seems to be somewhat impressed with you at the moment. Attempt to persuade her that you have merely been acting the incompetent fool to throw your schoolmates off her scent. 

            I expect to have your owl back at the Manor with your reply as soon as possible.

 – Lucius

~*~

Dear Miache,

            Sheesh, rude much? Is that a vampire thing, or what? 

            If Autumn won't tell you anything about her history in America, you won't hear it from me. I wouldn't want her telling you about me behind my back. Besides, Erin says you got Snape to try to get her to talk, and double-teaming people isn't cool. If you're so interested in Autumn, why don't you just ask her about herself instead of being snoopy?

Sincerely,

Lianne

~*~

Professor Snape – 

            I really don't think that Autumn's background is any of your business. She, Lianne, and I would prefer not to bring up our past. It's not very pleasant, and it is private. Not to mention that Autumn would probably not be too happy with you asking us about her, instead of asking her. It's very rude, not to mention sneaky.

            Also, I do not appreciate the implication that Autumn is anything other than she says she is. If you're suggesting what I think you are, you are way out of line. If not, honestly, you're still out of line. You may be Autumn's teacher, but that doesn't give you the right to all the details of her life, and it doesn't give you any right to the details of mine.

Sincerely,

Erin Connor

~*~

Dear Autumn,

            You'll never believe who had the nerve to write to me, wanting to know all about you and your background. Severus Snape, Potions Master and Snoop Extraordinaire, that's who. I've written to Dumbledore about it.

            Anyway, I hope you're fitting in at school all right. Li says you've made friends with Blaise Zabini. She also said some rather interesting things about Draco Malfoy. As a member of the best friends circle, I expect details.

            A word of advice, though – it sounds like things are going to start heating up at Hogwarts any time now, especially in Slytherin. I'd watch out, if I were you. And if you have any kind of problems at all, don't be afraid to write to me, or Lianne, or even Remus, if you want. We all have to look out for each other.

            Lianne and I will try to come visit you soon. At least one of us will be up there for Christmas, both if we can swing it. Hope to see you then!

Love,

Erin

~*~

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

            As one of Autumn Vance's official guardians, I think I need to voice a complaint. Did you know that Professor Snape wrote to me being nosy and rude about Autumn? It sounds like he knows a little more about what happened to us in America than he should. You didn't tell him anything, did you? Because Lianne and I told you that stuff in confidence.

            Anyway, I'm pretty upset about this letter. I'm also fairly sure Lianne feels the same about the letter she got from Miache. And I thought you should know.

Sincerely,

Erin Connor

~*~

Dear Autumn,

            You didn't really mean not to write to you, did you? I hope not, because I'm going to write to you anyway. And of course I didn't jinx you. You're kind of far away for that.

            So Draco seriously kissed you? That is so amazing! Was it nice? I bet it was nice. I don't see why you had to go around hitting him afterwards. No good can come of hitting boys who kiss you. They'll either call you a lesbian and stop kissing you, or they'll call you a sadistic dominatrix and try to kiss you way too much.

            Tell Blaise Zabini I said hello back to him. And I got my toucan in America, from an exotic pet store. I've also got a macaw, two parakeets, and two cockatoos. And I'm thinking about getting a hummingbird. I like birds. Can you tell?

            Anyway, I hope I can come visit you soon. I'm just dying to see you again. Erin and I were thinking we could visit at the same time. Wouldn't that be fun?

Love,

Lianne

~*~

Dear Ms. Connor,

            I apologize if my professors offended you. When I suggested that they write to you and to Mrs. Black, I expected them to use a certain degree of tact. In the future, I shall remember with whom I am dealing and endeavor not to expect the impossible.

            I assure you, I have not told Professors Snape and Sanguinis anything to which you might object. That was the purpose of their writing to you – they wished to have information that I was not at liberty to provide. They are thinking of the safety of the school and students, however rude they may be.

            Do give my regards to Remus. The pair of you are welcome to stop by the school whenever you wish. I would welcome you, and I am certain Miss Vance would be equally pleased.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

~*~

Father – 

            I am pleased to know that my attempts to win the Witness back to my side are turning out successfully. It is most difficult to interpret her emotions from her actions. Fortunately, I believe I have found the knack of it. I shall keep you updated on my progress.

 – Draco

**Chapter 36**

            "I have to say, I think I'm getting a little nervous about all this." Asin laughed lightly. "I would have expected the Witness to have done something by now. Even a little something, just so we'd all know she's here."

             "Has anyone actually explained the phrase 'secret identity' to you, Asin?" Pansy said snippily. "If she reveals herself, she'll lose her power. She wouldn't want to go around showing her cards all the time."

            "Well, obviously," Asin said, irritated. "I didn't mean to Hogwarts in general, however you may have chosen to misinterpret my phrasing. I meant, to us. The future Death Eaters. She might have told us, at least."

            "Enough," Draco said, with a long-suffering sigh. If no one stopped them, Pansy and Asin would go on and on for hours, each trying to top the other, neither ever really succeeding. It was extremely annoying to listen to. "I didn't Charm this dorm room against eavesdroppers so you two could fight."

            "All right, then," Pansy said, sniffing. Asin looked haughtily off into the distance, pointedly ignoring the other girl.

            "Good," Draco said. "I suppose it hasn't occurred to any of you that the discovery of the Witness's identity might be meant as a challenge?"

            Pansy, Asin, Crabbe, and Goyle all glanced at each other. "A challenge from _him_?" Pansy asked cautiously. "For us?"

            "You have to admit it's possible," Draco said. "Even likely. And in light of that, perhaps we should form an alliance?"

            "Draco?" Crabbe raised his hand, looking confused. "Isn't this an alliance now?"

            "This is a meeting, dimwit," Pansy said scornfully. "We aren't actually working together. Can't you tell the difference?"

            Crabbe frowned, spending a moment trying to figure it out. "No," he said eventually.

            "It doesn't matter what we call it, in any case," Draco said quickly. "What I meant was that it would be more productive if we worked together to learn who the Witness is, rather than opposing one another. We'd figure it out sooner, and we'd look more impressive to _him_."

            "Draco does have a point," Pansy said.

            "Of course he does," Asin said, smiling dazzlingly at Draco. "He's Draco Malfoy. If he's in favor of this idea, who are we to refuse to support him? I, for one, am all in favor."

            "Which is what I meant to say," Pansy said swiftly, "before I was so rudely interrupted. I'm with you, Draco. Don't worry about that."

            "I wasn't worried." Draco smiled smoothly at both girls. "Crabbe? Goyle? How about the pair of you?" They nodded. "Excellent. Then first we need to determine who's gotten how far."

            There was silence. No one wanted to be the first one to share.

            "All right, then," Draco said. "I'll start. The Witness assumed a codename for her own protection – don't you think it's possible that she isn't even a 'she?' It would certainly throw Dumbledore and his lot off the trail if they had the wrong gender."

            "What a good point, Draco," Asin said, smiling prettily. "You're so clever."

            Draco nodded in gracious acknowledgement. "I'd been considering Professor Miles," he said. "None of you know him, but he teaches Wizardry Across the Globe. There's always been something a little off about him."

            "Is he the very short one?" Pansy asked.

            "That's Flitwick," Asin said helpfully.

            "I know who Flitwick is," Pansy said coldly. "I meant the one who's five feet tall, with blond hair."

            "That's him," Draco said.

            "He is a little odd," Pansy said thoughtfully. "I always thought it was because he was gay."

            "Is he really?" Draco blinked, thinking back a little. "That would explain a lot, actually."

            "Well, he's certainly a possibility," Asin agreed. "Especially if we're looking for a man. Although I'm not convinced that we are."

            "Who would you suggest, then?" Pansy asked sharply.

            "Oh, I don't know," Asin said carelessly. "That Lovegood Ravenclaw girl, perhaps. Surely no one can be that strange naturally. Or maybe Brocklehurst? She always knows all the gossip, has anyone else noticed that?"

            "Possible," Draco conceded. "But why only Ravenclaws? Wouldn't it be more effective to have a spy in Gryffindor?"

            "The Weasley girl?" Crabbe suggested. "Didn't _he_ use her before?"

            "True." Draco gave Crabbe an approving look, for making an actual contribution. "Of course, she might be suspected, since she did work for _him_ once, but on the other hand it might have made her more amenable to _his_ will."

            "All these possibilities," Asin said, sighing. "It just makes my head spin, Draco. What do you think we should do?"

            "I think we should separate, to think things over," Draco said. "We can talk again later. If our discussions run too long, someone may notice."

            Pansy and Asin stood up. "See you later, Draco," Asin said, smiling sweetly at him. Pansy glared at the other girl as the two of them left.

            After a moment of Draco gazing pointedly at them, Crabbe and Goyle also left. It might be their room as well as Draco's, but they didn't want to stay in there if Draco was going to _stare_ at them the whole time.

            Draco smirked as he locked the door behind the two boys. That meeting had been extremely successful – far more so than he'd expected, really. He hadn't thought Pansy and Asin would give in to his suggestion so easily. He should watch those two more closely. They'd agreed with all his ideas far too willingly. And while he had been trying to feed them false information, he really ought to have had to try a little harder. The girls sounded as though they might be planning something, Asin in particular. Though he rather thought he could guess at least one of Asin's motives. He shook his head. He'd sooner kiss a black widow spider than Asin. It would probably be safer.

            Which brought him back to a plan that had been somewhat less successful. Autumn Vance. Draco frowned as he contemplated her, wondering what could have gone wrong there. She'd been attracted to him. He knew it. He hadn't pulled her into that greenhouse intending to kiss her, but with the way she'd looked at him when he'd smiled and moved closer to her, it had seemed like the right thing to do. She'd wanted him to kiss her, he was sure of it.

            Which made her reaction to the kiss that much more confusing. He thought she'd liked it at first, but then she'd gone and attacked him. What had that been all about? It couldn't have been a reaction to his kissing skills – could it? After all, he hadn't kissed anyone since Noleta had left. You couldn't forget how to kiss, could you? 

            No, of course you couldn't. Draco scolded himself for being ridiculous. He was a good kisser. That wasn't the problem. He was viewing this from the wrong angle.

            Probably Autumn was still angry with him for cursing her. Not that he blamed her. He was rather relieved that she had contented herself only with hitting him, instead of actually taking parts of him as fashion accessories. That would have gotten some extremely awkward questions from Madam Pomfrey, more than the simple raised eyebrow he'd gotten when he'd shown up with his black eye and broken nose. Not to mention how painful it would have been.

            However, if hitting him was Autumn's revenge on Draco for the curse, she was being remarkably easy on him. He would have expected something considerably worse. Maybe she really did like him after all. He could use that. At the very least, he could kiss her again. It hadn't been nearly as bad as he would have thought when he'd first seen her – and how many boys could boast that they'd kissed Voldemort's Witness?

            In the best-case scenario, Draco might be able to make Autumn grow attached to him. Not love – he doubted Voldemort would choose a spy who could be caught in that trap – but if she were attracted enough, Draco might be able to get her to talk Voldemort into waiting until he'd graduated Hogwarts for his initiation into the Death Eaters. He didn't question that he'd have to join eventually, but he didn't want to go around with a Dark Mark right under Dumbledore's nose. He'd be certain to get caught, and then he would be in a world of trouble, from both Dumbledore and Voldemort. But if one of Voldemort's favorite Death Eaters decided she liked him enough, Draco might just be able to escape that fate.

            Draco grinned. This situation had definite possibilities, that was for sure. He stretched, preparing to get up and venture forth into the Common Room. After all, he did have studying to do.

            He didn't even make it off the bed before a blinding pain knocked him flat on his back.

            Draco closed his eyes against the sudden agony in his skull, pounding at his temples and behind his eyes. He wanted to scream, but he bit his lip against it until he tasted blood. He would not scream. Whatever this was, he was not going to give in to it.

            Draco hadn't thought the pain could get worse, but in the next second it did, making him terribly disoriented. He thought for a moment he could smell feathers burning, and hear the screeching and keening of owls. It was so strange – so vivid. He would have wondered about that, if he'd had room in his head for anything but the pain.

            And then, with violent fireworks of fiery orange and blood red going off on the inside of his eyelids, Draco passed out.

~*~

Author's Note: Isn't that a fun ending note? Two plot twists, in only one chapter. Not to mention two shiny new characters being introduced. If all goes according to plan, Terry and Blaise will have their meeting in the next chapter. I am as yet undecided as to how it will go. I've been playing with a few different endings, and I think this chapter will be the one where I'll finally have to give in and pick. Hate it when that happens. ^_^

Disclaimer: Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling.  The quote at the beginning is by Carl Jung. Autumn's various threats are borrowed from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and Rick Cook's _Wizardry Consulted_.

Thank you everyone who reviewed!

Nycgal (Autumn doesn't like Harry. Hence, the not telling him things. Also, her voice was cursed.), Telos, Sharem, Dark Angel31, San-san, Moranar, EmmaCF, Suzaka, Purple Nail Polish Person, rowan j. weasley (I think Autumn may steal that insult at some point – calling Draco a bitch is too good to pass up!), Korinna Myorin, Blood57, Arella Hallo, Accalia2, kat6528, Kandice, TheEverBurning, Strawberrylover, FunkyWitchOnFire, guenevere, paranoidwench, Waterlili, Chiquita, Arwen1011, rd_kittykat, Fluffy The Teddy Bear Slayer, Leeanna-Marie-Malfoy, Kalika Aryn, Shuiliya.

Zhai'helleva!

 - Mystica


	23. What You See

Dreaming of You

Author's Note: School is finally out, and I actually have time to write. It's almost disconcerting. I didn't work on this chapter for the whole month of my exams, and then it got done very quickly. I hope I can keep that speed up long enough to have new chapters fairly soon.

Many thank yous to Merry, my beta! waves

**_Part 22 – What You See_******

_Don't open your eyes, you won't like what you see.  
The devils of truth steal the souls of the free.  
Don't open your eyes, take it from me.  
  
_

**Chapter 37**

            "Are you feeling okay, Autumn?"

            "Huh?" Autumn looked over at Blaise as they walked from the Slytherin Common Room to the Great Hall for breakfast. "What do you mean?"

            "You've been all quiet since yesterday," Blaise said. "Are you sick?" He reached out and felt her forehead.

            Autumn swatted his hand away irritably. "Stop that. I'm not sick. I'm thinking. I do that occasionally."

            "Really?" Blaise frowned. "Can't you think and talk at the same time?"

            "Not about two different subjects," Autumn said.

            "Well, you could tell me what you're thinking about," Blaise suggested hopefully. "Then it would only be the one subject. And it might make you feel better."

            Autumn scowled. "I feel fine. And I don't want to talk about it." Blaise sniffled, looking like a kicked puppy. Autumn sighed. "Stop that, Blaise. I'm okay. I just need to be quiet and think. People do that sometimes, you know." An idea occurred to her. "You know, I bet Terry likes to be quiet and think a lot. Why don't you practice letting me think, so you'll be prepared for Terry?"

            Blaise's face lit up. "Okay!" he agreed cheerfully, before closing his mouth in an expression of intense concentration.

            Autumn fought the urge to sigh with relief. She really didn't feel up to Blaise pestering her to share her feelings. It wasn't like she'd tell him anything in any case. He was sweet and cute, sure, but she didn't trust him to keep a secret anymore than she'd trust Mandy. She was certain the only reason Blaise wasn't as much of a gossip as Mandy was that no one in her right mind would tell Blaise anything of importance.

            And anyway, even if she did decide to tell him something, what would she say? Would she tell him that she kept thinking about Draco Malfoy and how unfair it was that someone so nasty should be so gorgeous? Or maybe she could say that kissing Draco had been exhilarating, electric, and that she kept wondering what it would be like to do it again? That would go over really well, she was sure. And it would be even better when she added that she still wanted to hit Draco, too, or maybe turn him into something small and squishy. Provided he'd kiss her again before she did.

            Autumn scowled. The whole situation was maddening. Why couldn't Draco have kept on trying to drive her out of Hogwarts? It had been easier then. All she had to do was come up with a way to get revenge on him. She didn't have to worry about what had caused this sudden change of heart, in either her or in him.

            Well, she knew what had caused it in her. He was stunning, was what it was. Silky blond hair, dark silver eyes, that mouth that looked twice as lovely when smirking. She'd been able to ignore it when she was convinced he hated her, and she could devote all her energy to hating him, but then he'd had to go and change that. Why the hell had he done that? He might as well have gone and tried to put the moves on Harry Potter. It would make about as much sense.

            Lost in her thoughts and not noticing that Blaise was still looking at her with growing concern, Autumn reached the Great Hall and headed in. She didn't even bother going towards the Slytherin table, remembering the cold reception she'd had there the day before. Besides, she didn't want to have to face Draco.

            So Autumn was extremely startled when Tabitha stepped out in front of her. "What do you want now?" Autumn snapped. "Come to tell me I can't sit with the Ravenclaws, either?"

            "Yes," Tabitha said, smiling for all the world as if she and Autumn were the best of friends. "Or rather, to tell you that you needn't sit with them. You were truly the one who broke Draco's nose?"

            "Yeah," Autumn said, ignoring Blaise's startled gasp. "He's a jerk and he had it coming. So what?"

            "So you can hardly want to sit with the Ravenclaws after that," Tabitha said, laughing brightly. "We couldn't waste such a fist on a bunch of intellectuals, now, could we?"

            Autumn's eyes narrowed. "Oh, no, you don't," she said, voice low. "I may be new to Slytherin politics, but I'm not stupid. You lot have set up some horrible little game system and all these rules about who wins and who loses, and you've got it set up so that you're always the ones who are going to win. I'm not going to waste my time begging to be allowed to sit with you, and doing everything I can to get in good with you or Draco. I don't need people like you."

            "Oh, very nice!" Tabitha laughed. "That was lovely, dear. You can certainly sit with us after that! Pretending that you don't want to be with your own housemates – "

            "I don't," Autumn said, flatly cutting Tabitha off. "I am not going back over there, I am not going to get into that game, and I am sure as hell not going to play on your terms. I won't be second place to you and your friends, not even in a contest you've had rigged from the start. I'm leaving. And I'm not coming back till I'm the one calling the shots."

            With that, Autumn stalked past the stunned Tabitha and threw herself into the seat beside Mandy at the Ravenclaw table. She wasn't all that surprised to see Blaise hurrying to take the seat beside her, either.

            "Well, that was certainly impressive," Mandy said, eyebrows raised as she watched Tabitha return to the Slytherin table. "Maybe not the brightest move in the world, but nonetheless extremely impressive."

            Autumn was still seething. "She had the nerve to think that I'd come when she called," she snarled. "I don't do that. I won't. She doesn't get to have that kind of power over me. No one does."

            "No one?" Mandy asked.

            "Not anyone," Autumn said fiercely. "I won't play by anyone's rules but my own. That's it, isn't it? That's where I've been going wrong. I've been going along with them and getting sucked into their world. I can't win there. Half of those kids over there can't, and they've been here way longer than me."

            "So what exactly are you going to do?" Mandy said skeptically. "You're still a Slytherin. That's never going to change. You won't become a Ravenclaw just because you're sitting here."

            Autumn glared at Mandy, her nails tapping a harsh staccato beat on the tabletop. "Oh, I'm going to be a Slytherin," she said coldly. "I'll be the best fucking Slytherin of the lot of them. You wait and see. They're going to play my game before I'm through, and they are not going to beat me at it."

            Blaise and Mandy watched Autumn pensively as she sat glowering at the Slytherin table. "I knew she wasn't okay," Blaise said sadly.

---------

            "Well. That's certainly interesting," Sinistra said, as she and the other professors watched the Slytherins and Ravenclaws go their separate ways. "And fortunate. I thought we were going to have to prevent them from shredding each other."

            "We still might," Sprout pointed out. "A Slytherin refusing to sit with the rest of her House? That's just asking for trouble. Can't we make her go back?"

            "We haven't forced students to sit at their own House tables yet," Deva said. Everyone turned to look at her, and she turned a little red. "Well, Miss Vance isn't really doing anything wrong, is she? And it would be a bad precedent to forbid her to sit with her friends."

            "I knew letting that girl start in the middle of her sixth year would cause problems," Snape grumbled.

            "Much as I hate to admit it, Severus, you do have a point," McGonagall said reluctantly. "I thought the balance of power in your House had finally stabilized, and then Miss Vance had to go and start the in-fighting again."

            "Then isn't it good that she wants to sit with the Ravenclaws?" Sprout said. "That might tone the fighting down a bit."

            "More likely she'll make it worse," Sinistra said judiciously. "She's a third camp, a rogue power. Possibly Miss Nott and Mr. Malfoy will join forces to squash her resistance, but I doubt it. They aren't used to working together. She might be able to use that to her advantage."

            "You sound like you approve," Deva said, astonished.

            Sinistra shrugged. "I might," she admitted. "Depends on where the girl goes from here. If she's just going to cause trouble, that's one thing, but if she manages to make Slytherin into something other than two armed camps, I'm all in favor."

            "We all would be," McGonagall said dryly. "And I'm sure this has nothing to do with the fact that she likes your Ravenclaws?"

            "It does show good taste," Sinistra acknowledged. "Maybe I should've offered to help tutor her, after all."

            "Offer again and we'll take you up on it," Flitwick said. "We could certainly use you."

            Sinistra raised an eyebrow. "I'll consider it. I'm quite busy, you know." She frowned. "On which note, I need to return to my office. My fifth years have not been paying proper attention, and I was planning to inform them of this by way of a surprise test." She stood and left.

            "I'm glad I'm not in her class," Sprout muttered. "Surprise tests, really!"

            This turned the conversation to other topics, away from any feuds that might be brewing. The only two that did not join in new conversations were Snape and Miache, though those two rarely condescended to join breakfast conversations in any case. Miache left without a word when the mail arrived, and ten minutes later Snape excused himself as well. Leaving, he headed not to his own office, but to Miache's.

            "You should 'ave vaited longer," the vampire said, once the door was closed. "People vill start to notice if ve leave meals too close togezzer."

            Snape rolled his eyes. "The worst that will happen is that the students will get it into their heads that we're having a secret love affair," he said. "And the other professors either already know that we're conferencing, or don't care."

            Miache snorted. "No vonder you are no longer a spy," she said. "It is amazing you survived as long as you did, if zhat is ze attitude you take towards caution." She frowned. "But I admit ze love affair idea 'as merit, if ve ever need an explanation for meeting." She eyed him for a moment. "As a last resort, per'aps."

            "Oh?" Snape raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly offended in spite of himself.

            "Your nose is extremely large," Miache said calmly. "It vould be most unbelievable unless I exerted myself more zhan I vish to do." Without giving him time to respond to this, she handed him the letter she had received that morning. "Mrs. Black answered my letter. She did not reveal anyzhing about Miss Vance."

            "Erin Connor replied to me, too," Snape said, giving Miache that letter in exchange for the one she had received. "They seem to have spoken to one another."

            "Obviously," Miache said acidly, scanning Erin's letter. "Zhey are friends, are zhey not?" She tapped a nail against the paper thoughtfully. "Do you zhink ve may 'ave spoken too soon?"

            Snape frowned. "Those girls' lack of background is too suspicious to ignore."

            "True," Miache said. "But its meaning could be different from vhat ve assumed."

            "Her behavior today would be strange, if she really is the Witness," Snape said. "I could understand causing difficulties between the two groups, but not being so obvious about it. The point of being a spy is not to draw attention to yourself."

            "And if she vanted to leave ze Slyzzerins, vhy choose ze Ravenclaws?" Miache added. "If any students could discover 'er identity, it vould be zhem."

            "I think it's time we found ourselves a spy of our own," Snape said. "Guesses and what-ifs aren't going to be enough." He gave Miache a pointed look.

            She smiled. "Your timing is impeccable," she said. "I 'ave gotten in touch viz my contact – "

            "At last," Snape muttered.

            " – and 'e is villing to meet viz you," Miache finished. "You needn't grumble at me so, sir Potionsmaster. You know as vell as I 'ow difficult recruiting agents can be."

            Snape nodded curtly, gesturing for her to go on. Yes, he knew finding a willing spy was a dangerous, lengthy job. He ought to be grateful that Miache was doing it, rather than forcing him to try. But the vampire's presence unfailingly set his teeth on edge, making him want to provoke her. It was irritatingly distracting, especially when he was trying to concentrate.

            Miache sniffed at him, almost as if she could hear his thoughts – and at that, Snape paled. Miache stared at him. "Vhat?" she demanded.

            Snape's eyes narrowed. "You're a vampire," he said.

            "You 'ave only just realized zhis now?" Miache asked incredulously.

            Snape ignored this. "Can you read my thoughts?"

            Miache rolled her eyes. "Ayy. You 'umans. I should 'ave known it vould – " She stopped short. "I cannot!"

            "Read my thoughts?" Snape breathed a sigh of relief.

            "No!" Miache looked as thought he had personally offended her. "You 'ave shielded your mind against me – and yet you still 'ave ze nerve to ask if I know your thoughts?"

            Snape shrugged offhandedly. "I wanted to be certain," he said.

            Miache's eyes narrowed. "You are 'uman," she said. "A vizard, yes, but still no more zhan 'uman. 'Ow is it zhat you can shield your mind from me?"

            "How have you not noticed before now?" Snape countered.

            Miache's lip curled. "I certainly do not go around reading ze minds of all 'oo come near me," she snapped. "Most minds are excessively dull. I dislike being bored." She scowled. "You vill tell me about zhis strange magic of yours, and 'ow it is so much like a vampire's power. Never 'ave I met any 'uman viz ze strength of mind to stand against my own."

            "I'm hardly the only one," Snape snapped, irritated that she spoke as though she had the right to command him. "It's called Occlumency, a way of shielding the mind. Did you think I became a Death Eater spy for the fun of it?"

            "Zhat is vhy – " Miache stopped, frowning. "I shall 'ave to zhink about zhis. Zhere are many ozzers, you say?"

            "Not many, no," Snape said. "But some. Dumbledore, for one, and Voldemort."

            "Zhat, I zhink I could 'ave guessed," Miache said. "Is it exactly like my own powers? I vonder…" She shook her head. "Later. Ve shall continue zhis discussion later, along viz a comparison of our magics. For now, go back to your class, and I vill go to mine. Unless," she smirked, "you vish to spread ze rumors of a love affair, after all."

            Scowling darkly at that, but determined not to let that vampire breeze out of the room ahead of him as she was trying to do, Snape stalked from her office. He only realized after he was halfway to the dungeons that he had still ended up following her orders.

---------  

            It was decidedly unfair to wake up with a massive hangover when he hadn't even drunk anything. That was Draco's first coherent thought as he struggled into consciousness in the morning. He cracked open an eye, and groaned at the shock of light that slammed into him. Light was bad. He buried his head in his pillow. It was dark, and soothing. Dark was good.

            Draco very nearly decided to go right back to sleep. He felt rotten, but there was always the chance he would feel better when he woke up again. But memories of the previous night were beginning to resurface, from the back of his mind. This wasn't a hangover, he realized, reliving the sounds and sensations that had overtaken him. The screeching, the flashes of light, the smoke – this had to be a curse.

            Despite the pounding in his head and the roiling in his stomach, that thought gave Draco the energy to drag himself off his bed. Squinting against the light from the torches, he managed to find his wand and stumble to the doorway. Fortunately, when he'd collapsed he'd still been dressed. He didn't think he'd be able to get his robes on in this state.

            Opening the door took a few tries, but Draco managed it in the end. When he got to the Common Room, however, his legs gave out on him, and he fell into the nearest chair. He didn't think he could move any further. His stomach twisted, his head ached, and his legs wobbled like jelly. What kind of curse did all these things at once? Draco resolved to learn what curse it had been, as soon as he got rid of its effects.

            He was still sitting in that chair, trying to scrape up the energy to move again, when Pansy came into the Common Room. "There you are, Draco," she exclaimed, hurrying towards him. "Flitwick said – " Then she got a good look at him. "What happened? You look terrible."

            Draco grimaced. Always nice to have his looks commented on. "Curse," he said tersely, not sure he could manage more than the one word.

            "Really?" Pansy's eyebrows shot up. "Was it Autumn Vance again?" When Draco didn't answer, she shook her head. "Well, you've got to get to Charms class now. Flitwick said he'd hold me personally responsible for seeing that you got there." She pulled out her wand. "_Finite incantatum._"

            Nothing happened. Pansy frowned, but Draco wasn't particularly surprised. That spell wouldn't cancel advanced magic, and since he didn't recognize this curse it had to be fairly advanced.

            "Do you know what the curse is?" Pansy asked. "I can't cancel it if I don't know."

            Draco sent her a withering look. If he knew what curse it was, wouldn't he have cancelled it himself? It wasn't as though he enjoyed feeling this way.

            "Well, I'd better take you to see Madam Pomfrey," Pansy decided. "Can you walk by yourself?"

            Much to Draco's disgust, he was forced to shake his head no. Pansy smirked as Draco leaned on her, an arm around her shoulders for balance. The smirk quickly disappeared as she realized how heavy a sixteen-year-old boy could be. She hurried Draco to the hospital wing, instead of going slowly to enjoy his dependence on her.

            Madam Pomfrey was not pleased when they reached her. "Don't you feed me some story about a curse, Mr. Malfoy," she snapped. "I know a hangover when I see one. I've got no sympathy for anyone stupid enough to overindulge themselves that much. If I had my way, you'd just have to deal with your symptoms, as a lesson." Nevertheless, she poured Draco a dose of Madidus's Hangover-Be-Gone Tonic. "Drink this, so I can get you out of my clinic and back to your classes where you belong."

            Draco followed orders, ignoring the bitter taste of the potion. He'd put up with anything short of poison, if it meant he would feel better.

            But not if it didn't work. Once he realized the hangover remedy had had no effect, Draco glared darkly at the empty glass. Not only did he still feel rotten, he had a nasty aftertaste left in his mouth.

            Madam Pomfrey frowned, peering suspiciously at Draco. "What were you drinking?" she wanted to know. "That tonic ought to have worked on anything you could have gotten hold of."

            "He wasn't drinking," Pansy said. "He's been cursed." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I bet it was that new girl, Autumn Vance. I think she ought to be punished for doing this to poor Draco, don't you?"

            This rather obvious tactic only earned Pansy glares from both Madam Pomfrey and Draco. "Are you ill as well, Miss Parkinson?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "No? Then I suggest you get back to your class."

            "Oh, I couldn't leave without Draco," Pansy said, with a sincerity that was almost believable.

            "You can and you will," Madam Pomfrey said sharply. "Out. Out right now, or I'll start taking points from Slytherin." Once Pansy was gone, the nurse turned her eye on Draco. "Well?" she asked. "Did Miss Vance curse you?"

            Draco grimaced. He wasn't sure he could keep hold of the contents of his stomach if he opened his mouth again. His insides did not seem to be reacting well to the hangover remedy.

            Madam Pomfrey noticed this and scowled. "You Slytherins and your voices," she grumbled. "You were perfectly fine till this year, and now you're losing them left and right." She sighed. "Now you listen, Mr. Malfoy. I expect you're feeling absolutely awful, and you want me to make that feeling go away. I can't do that unless you answer my questions honestly. Just nod or shake your head. Do you understand? You'll give me honest answers?"

            Draco nodded, giving the nurse his best "honest eyes." Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "Well, if you aren't telling the truth, you're the only one who will get hurt. Now, to start with, was Miss Parkinson telling the truth about that being a curse?" Draco nodded. "So you weren't drinking?" Draco shook his head. "And was it Miss Vance who cursed you?"

            Draco hesitated at that. He wasn't sure who had cursed him. He'd been alone in his room, after all. Probably someone had set the curse on him earlier, and it had only just kicked in. He settled on a shrug.

            "Maybe?" Madam Pomfrey frowned. "So you don't know who cursed you, is that it?" Draco nodded. "All right, then. I'm going to try to treat this as a curse, instead of a hangover, and we'll see what I can do. But if it turns out that you've lied to me, and you've been drinking after all, you will rue the day you entered my hospital wing under false pretences. Do you understand me, Mr. Malfoy?"

            Draco nodded hurriedly. Who'd have thought Madam Pomfrey could be scary?

            "Good." The nurse nodded decisively. "Then let's see about getting you healed, shall we?"

---------

            Autumn drummed her fingers on the desktop. She was supposed to be listening to Miache explain the principles of Transfiguration, but she couldn't concentrate.

            "I can see you aren't listening, you know," Miache said at last, irritated. "If you do not vant to learn magic, you 'ave only to say so. I 'ave ozzer zhings I could be doing viz my time."

            Autumn looked up, thinking for a moment. Then she looked straight at the vampire. "Why were you trying to get Erin and Lianne to tell you about me?"

            "Ah." Miache leaned back in her chair. "Zhat troubles you, does it?"

            "Yes," Autumn said. "Why?"

            Miache considered her answer. "I do not like mysteries," she said finally. "Your background presents a mystery indeed, and I sought more information about it."

            "And you couldn't just ask me?" Autumn said. "I think I have a right to know why you were poking around for information that's none of your business."

            "Per'aps you do." Miache shrugged indifferently. "I vanted to know. Zhat is all." She raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you vould tell me?"

            "Like I said, it's not really any of your business," Autumn said. "Li and Erin don't want our past spread around. Personally, I think it's unbelievable enough that it wouldn't matter much, but if they want me to keep my mouth shut then I will."

            Miache frowned. "So you vill not speak of zhis because your friends refuse, and zhey vill not speak because you vill not? Zhat makes no sense."

            Autumn started to object, then paused. "You know, you're right. It doesn't." Her eyes narrowed. "You never said why you want to know so badly, anyway. There's no way I'm spilling my secrets if you don't spill yours."

            "Zhen ve are at an impasse," Miache said. She sighed. "I am sorry, Miss Vance. I vould 'ave preferred not to do zhis to a friend of Miss Connor's, but zhis is somezhing I must know." She fell silent, her head tilting to one side as though she were listening.

            Autumn frowned, worried. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "Stop looking at me like that! Answer me right now, do you hear me?"

            Miache resurfaced, lifting an eyebrow at Autumn's tone. "It is not considered vise to speak so to a vampire," she said mildly.

            "What were you doing?" Autumn repeated impatiently.

            "I vas reading your mind," Miache told her. "I vould 'ave done it in ze first place, but I zhought I owed it to Miss Connor to try ozzer vays first."

            "You read my mind?" Autumn exclaimed indignantly. "You can't do that!"

            "Yes, I can. I just 'ave. It vas most informative." Miache smirked. "But you needn't vorry zhat I vent prying into your personal secrets. I just looked at your memories about coming 'ere."

            Autumn didn't know how to respond to this. She was horrified that Miache would simply read her mind without even asking first, but what could she do about it? Miache had done it already. It was a little late to stop her.

            "So will you tell me what you found out?" Autumn asked eventually.

            "You 'aven't ze faintest idea 'ow you came to be 'ere," Miache said. "Zhat is most annoying. I should like to see zhat mystery solved someday. But aside from zhat, it vas razzer confusing. You vere speaking to Mr. Malfoy by cell phone for a short time, by tapping into ze netvork established for communications betveen British and American students. But before zhat – zhis is vhat I do not understand." Miache frowned deeply, her eyebrows coming together. "You read about ze magical vorld in a book series?"

            Autumn shrugged. "I know, it's weird. I don't get it either. That's the part Li, Erin, and I don't want spread around – the books and the communications. We've looked for the books – well, Lianne and Erin have, and they can't find them. So basically we've got this crazy story and no proof to back it up. Hence the not telling people."

            "I see," Miache said. "Yes, your logic does make more sense now."

            "So any chance you'll tell me _now_ why you wanted to know that so desperately that you had to go picking through my mind to find it out?" Autumn asked, scowling.

            Miache frowned consideringly. "Per'aps. Zhis does make a difference, knowing vhere you come from. And you may need ze varning."

            "What warning?" Autumn asked apprehensively. She didn't like the sound of that.

            "Zhere is a spy somevhere at 'Ogvarts," Miache said. "A female 'oo is called ze Vitness. Ve are attempting to determine 'er identity."

            "And you thought I was a spy?" Autumn was stunned. "Why?"

            "You and ze Vitness appeared at much ze same time," Miache said. "And you vere placed in Slyzzerin, viz zhose 'oo may join ze Dark Lord's ranks. Until zhis morning, you vere ze best candidate."

            "Oh." Autumn grinned. She felt oddly flattered at the thought that she'd been suspected of being a spy. Then she frowned. "What do you mean, this morning?"

            "Your little drama viz Miss Nott and ze Ravenclaws," Miache said. "Very intriguing, yes, but very stupid for a spy." She smiled suddenly. "I look forvard to seeing vhere you plan to go from 'ere, Miss Vance."

            "Oh." Autumn blinked. "Well… okay. Good. Me, too, I guess."

            Miache raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on that. "Now, Miss Vance – your Transfiguration."

---------

            "Well, Mr. Malfoy, it seems I'm going to have to let you go." Madam Pomfrey frowned at Draco, standing beside his cot. "Your symptoms are gone, at least, though it doesn't seem to be a result of anything I've done for you."

            Draco shrugged, swinging off the bed. It was the end of the day, just before dinner, and he felt fine. Actually, he was starving. He'd slept through breakfast, and Madam Pomfrey had doubted he'd be able to keep down anything at lunch. "So I can leave now?" he asked, just to make sure.

            "I suppose," Madam Pomfrey said, reluctant to let a patient go when she wasn't convinced of his cure. "But if any of those symptoms come back, I want you back in this hospital wing. If it is a curse, it might not be gone."

            Draco grimaced at that. He hoped it was gone. He never wanted to wake up that way again. He headed for the door, not wanting to stay in the hospital wing any longer.

            "Mr. Malfoy."

            Draco turned back to look at Madam Pomfrey, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

            "This fighting among the Slytherins is getting out of hand. I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Miss Vance when she came in here cursed." Madam Pomfrey's eyes narrowed. "I don't want you going after whoever did this on your own. Honor and revenge are all well and good in their place, but I'm getting tired of treating Slytherins who have gotten cursed in your little war. If I see too many more of you, I may have to do something drastic."

            Draco smirked. "Whatever you say." He turned and left, shaking his head. He dismissed Madam Pomfrey's threat from his thoughts. After all, what could a nurse do to anyone?

**Chapter 38**

            "So what about these robes? Do you like these?"

            Autumn sighed as Blaise showed her yet another set of robes, in preparation for his upcoming meeting with Terry. "Blaise, that is your school uniform. Every set of robes you've shown me so far has been your school uniform. You don't have any robes with you other than your school uniform. They are all exactly the same, so just pick one and be done with it!"

            Blaise ignored this, laying the robes down on the bed beside his other sets. He peered down at the set he was wearing, then compared it to the first set. "Maybe I should try those others on again."

            "Can't you just look at them?" Autumn demanded. "They're right there in front of you."

            "Oh, no," Blaise said seriously. "I want to see the way they hang again. Clothes look different when someone's wearing them." He sighed. "I tried to do a spell to inflate them earlier, but they kept trying to walk away."

            Autumn rolled her eyes. "So was that an effect of the spell, or the casting?"

            "Huh?" Blaise wrinkled his forehead, confused.

            "Never mind," Autumn said, annoyed. "Look, it's a quarter after three. Can't you just pick something? After I went and made Terry agree to meet you, if you're late I'll curse you myself."

            "Really?" Blaise's eyes widened. "I didn't know you liked me that way, Autumn!"

            Autumn sighed, and dropped her head into her hands. "Never mind, Blaise," she told him. "Just get dressed."

            "But you said – "

            "Get dressed, Blaise."

---------

            Finally, Blaise managed to choose a set of robes, which Autumn still thought was indistinguishable from all his other sets of robes. After a brief fuss with his hair and eyeliner, Blaise all but dragged Autumn out of the room to the Astronomy classroom.

            "If you were in such a hurry, why didn't you finish getting dressed earlier?" Autumn grumbled.

            "I wanted to be pretty for Terry," Blaise explained, as though it should be obvious. He paused, looking briefly insecure. "I do look pretty, don't I, Autumn?"

            Autumn sighed. "I guess," she said. "As much as any guy ever does."

            A brilliant smile blossomed across Blaise's face. "Thank you, Autumn!" He flung his arms around her suddenly, engulfing her in a hug. "You're the bestest friend ever. I'm glad you're here."

            "Right…" Autumn disentangled herself from Blaise's arms, trying to pretend her face hadn't turned slightly pink. "Come on, then. You're going to be late if you don't hurry." She quickly walked on up ahead. Blaise grinned, and followed.

            When they reached the Astronomy classroom, Blaise frowned. "He's not here. Why isn't he here?" He turned to Autumn, eyes wide in panic. "What if he doesn't come? What if he doesn't love me anymore?"

            "Get a grip, Blaise," Autumn snapped. "He never loved you in the first place, remember? Anyway, he'll be here. He'd better be here, or I'll – well, I'll do something bad to him." She scowled. "I've really got to come up with more threats. I've been sounding pathetic, and not at all threatening."

            "You could poke people," Blaise suggested.

            Autumn gave him a Look. "No."

            "Maybe if you poked really hard?" Blaise persisted.

            "You know, I think this is one of those conversations that you really just don't want to know how it got where it is," Mandy said thoughtfully, entering the classroom.

            Autumn stared at her. "What happened to your hair?"

            "Huh?" Mandy held out a few strands and peered at them. Instead of being purple and spiky, her hair was now chin length, and a rather drab pale brown. "Oh. I changed it. My cousin got hold of a picture of me, and she told me there's an Auror with the exact same hairstyle. So it's back to my natural state till I come up with something new."

            Blaise didn't look too interested in this conversation. "You aren't Terry," he told Mandy accusingly.

            "What?" Mandy looked around, confused. "Oh." She went back into the hall. "Come on, Boot, get inside. That which does not kill us makes us stronger, and all that." She ushered Terry into the room ahead of her. He was scowling, true, but at least he was there. Autumn suspected the scowl might be his natural expression.

            "Terry…" Blaise breathed, his face lighting up.

            Terry took one look at Blaise, then turned to Mandy. "You've got to be kidding. He's wearing makeup."

            Mandy smiled brightly. "You agreed, not me," she reminded him.

            "Agreements made before noon ought to be invalid," Terry mumbled. He looked around the classroom a moment, then snagged Sinistra's chair from the desk as the most comfortable seat. "Let's get this over with, Zabini. Clock's ticking."  
            Blaise, however, seemed content just to stand staring at Terry. Or maybe he was frozen with shock at being confronted with the object of his affections. Either way, he wasn't talking. Terry shrugged. "Okay, then. Don't talk. Easier for me." He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

            Autumn and Mandy glanced at each other. Autumn snapped her fingers in front of Blaise's eyes irritably. "Wake up," she snapped. She looked over at Terry. "Both of you." Both boys looked at her, startled. "Mandy and I are going to leave – "

            "What?" Mandy asked, horrified at the thought of missing these events.

            " – but you two are not going to sleep through this meeting," Autumn said, pointedly ignoring Mandy. "You can sleep any time you like. Right now, you're going to chat." She only got an eye roll from Terry and a perplexed look from Blaise, but she figured that was the best she'd get in any case. She nodded sharply. "Okay, then. Come on, Mandy, let's leave them to it."

            Much to Mandy's disappointment, Autumn dragged the other girl out of the classroom. "I would've liked to see that," Mandy said regretfully, once they were out of earshot of the classroom.

            "Why?" Autumn asked.

            "Well, if Terry really is going to squish Blaise's heart like a bug, it would be pretty entertaining to watch," Mandy pointed out. "He can be pretty nasty when he bothers with it."

            Autumn stared at Mandy incredulously. "Why aren't you in Slytherin?"

            Mandy shrugged. "Ask the Sorting Hat. If it comes to that, why are you in Slytherin? You're being awfully nice to Blaise for someone who's supposed to be nasty and evil."

            "I like Blaise," Autumn said. "He's kinda like a girl I know. And no one gets to hurt my friends. Not anyone, not ever."

            Mandy shook her head. "Half the time you act like a Gryff, the other half you're as sickeningly true-blue a friend as a Hufflepuff," she complained. "And then you go trying to sit on a fence between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Can't you just pick one House like the rest of us?"

            "I didn't ask to be stereotyped," Autumn snapped. "I didn't ask for any of this! Lianne and Hazel were the ones who really wanted to go off and have some stupid magical adventure! I was perfectly happy back in America. Okay, sure, I liked reading fantasy books, but who doesn't? That doesn't mean I wanted this to be real!"

            Mandy looked rather confused at this point. "Autumn? What are you talking about? Are we having the same conversation here?"

            "I don't know," Autumn yelled. "I don't know anything here, haven't you noticed? I'm stuck in a world where nothing I've learned is useful, and everyone's strange and magical and British! Is this some cosmic punishment on me for something? Did I go on a major killing spree in a past life or something? Was I a mass murderer? A cannibal? What? Because I don't know what's going on, and I hate it! I hate all this!"

            "Okay, then." Mandy took a couple steps back. "I'm glad you got that out of your system. It's probably good for you. Do you want to lie down?"

            "No," Autumn said, closing her eyes against the world. "No, I don't want to lie down. It's just – everything. All at once." She shook her head. "I think I need to be alone for a while. I'm just going to go outside until an hour is up. I want to be back there when the boys are done, and make sure Blaise is still intact."

            "Right. Good." Mandy nodded. "I think you should be alone, too. Frankly, you're starting to scare me. Let me know when you've decided to join us in the land of the sane again." She hurried away.

            "Oh, that's great," Autumn grumbled to herself. "Let's alienate one of the two people you actually managed to make friends with. Brilliant plan. And then for an encore, you can stand in the middle of the hallway talking to yourself like a crazy person." She shook her head.

            Autumn did go outside eventually, but first she stopped back at the dungeons, so she could pick up Mali from her dorm. The ferret liked going outside, and anyway Autumn figured she'd feel less crazy talking to an animal than talking to herself.

            It was actually fairly cold outside, as Autumn realized as soon as she left the castle. Well, she supposed it made sense. This was November in Scotland, after all. She shivered, but she didn't want to make another trip back to the Slytherin dorms to fetch her cloak, so she decided to press on regardless of the cold. After all, how bad could it be? Still, she decided that cold wind off the lake wouldn't make things any better, so she headed in the opposite direction, figuring she'd just walk around the castle till she had to go back in to meet Blaise. Maybe the cold would shock some sense back into her.

            Autumn sighed, absently petting Mali as she walked. She was going to have to apologize to Mandy, wasn't she? She hated apologizing, but she couldn't see any way around it if she wanted to keep her friend. And she definitely wanted to keep Mandy's friendship, if only so that she'd have somewhere to eat now that she'd left the Slytherin table. It wasn't as though she could just go back and sit with the Slytherins again after that outburst.

            "I've been screaming at everyone lately, haven't I?" Autumn asked Mali. "Think something's wrong with me? Maybe Hazel had a point, and we really are a pair of loonies." The ferret didn't answer, of course, and Autumn shook her head. What had she expected? She walked on, the thought of Hazel making her even more depressed. She missed the other girl. Actually, she missed all three girls, Hazel, Erin, and Lianne. They hadn't actually known each other that long, but they'd been close. Lianne had joked that they were kindred spirits. Or maybe she hadn't been joking. Autumn had never quite been able to tell.

            Maybe she ought to write to Lianne or Erin again? No. Autumn dismissed that thought. They were different now. They'd moved on, built new lives. She couldn't go running to them every time she had a problem. And she wasn't sure how much contact she wanted to have with them now, anyway. Were they still girls she'd been friends with? She wasn't sure. Erin had changed in a hundred little ways, and Autumn had no doubt that Lianne had as well. Probably more, really. Lianne was old now. No matter how silly she still sounded in her letters, she'd grown up.

            "Of course, I don't suppose I have any room to talk about people changing," Autumn mused. Mali paid her no attention, wriggling so he could get a better look at the grounds. "I mean, I never used to act this way." She paused, reconsidering. "Well, not this much, anyway." She'd always been a little grumpy, a little cynical, a little violent, but since coming to Hogwarts that was all she ever seemed to be. She'd even hit someone. Admittedly, Malfoy had had it coming to him, but she'd never hit anyone other than a human-shaped punching bag before. And the threats! Usually a list of a dozen or so really good threats would last her several months. She'd been here less than a month and she'd already run out.

            Was it being exposed to all those Slytherin personalities? Was the way they behaved drawing out her potential to be nasty? Autumn wasn't quite sure. Maybe the Sorting Hat had seen that potential in her. She briefly considered the idea that the Hat was just a vindictive piece of felt that took its evil pleasure in placing students in Houses at random, but was forced to abandon the thought. The Hat had to have put her in Slytherin for a reason. However she was acting now, it was something that had always been in her.

            And truth be told, Autumn was kind of enjoying her new feelings of freedom. It was liberating to be able to tell people exactly what she thought of them, and simply not care how they answered. She'd never been able to get away with that back in America. And as for the violence… well, why not? She remembered what she'd said after dealing with Terry. Violence got results. She'd always thought that there were a lot of problems that could easily be solved by a fist in someone's face, but she'd never quite dared, for fear of consequences.

            But what consequences could her actions have here? Points lost from Slytherin? Good. Autumn hated the lot of them. Maybe she could misbehave on purpose, just to see how many points she could lose. Detention? A few evenings gone. So what? Autumn found she didn't care in the slightest. The worst she could imagine had already happened. She was stuck here in Scotland, far away from her home. Her friends had changed, and weren't there when she needed them. Her father had mysteriously disappeared from the face of the earth. What could this stupid school do to her that would be any worse?

            Almost as if he could sense her depressing thoughts, Mali wriggled his head comfortingly against Autumn's hands. Autumn blinked. "Well, aren't you being sickeningly sweet?" she said, puzzled. Then, "Hey!" Mali had in fact used his squirming as a ploy to get Autumn to loosen her grip on him, and the ferret sprang free and went galloping off through the grass. "Bloody hell," Autumn growled, taking off after her pet.

            She ought to have been able to outrun the ferret easily, and indoors she probably could have. But on the grounds, the grass was just tall enough to shield Mali from Autumn's view. The ferret only had to zip merrily along in whatever direction he pleased, while Autumn constantly had to scan the movements of the grass to figure out where Mali was heading. Once or twice she pounced on the ground, thinking to snatch the ferret up, but only found herself with a handful of dirt.

            Intent as she was on her search for Mali, Autumn took little note of the high-pitched chattering that was growing increasingly louder as she ran. All her attention was focused on the movement of the grass, now confined to a single small area. She threw herself forward, intending to grab Mali before he had a chance to escape again.

            "Ow!" Autumn howled, yanking back her hand, bloody from where it had been bitten. "Stupid ferret! What the hell's wrong with you?" A stream of the chattering was sent back at her, all of it extremely rude. Autumn's eyes widened. "The hell?"

            "If yer lookin' fer a ferret, miss," a voice said, from somewhere far above Autumn's head, "that's not 'im."

            Autumn looked up… up… up to see a bushy black beard and twinkling black eyes. "You've got to be Hagrid," she said faintly. "You're… very tall."

            "Sure am," Hagrid said cheerfully. He stooped down and scooped up a creature that Autumn realized was not, in fact, her ferret. Or any kind of ferret at all. It was much larger, for one thing. For another, it was spouting out dirty words faster than a truck driver. "An' this feller here's th' subject o' me next class, called a Jarvey."

            Autumn raised an eyebrow, clutching her injured hand as she stood up. "I call it a bloody menace," she groused. "What's it done with my ferret?" She had a sinking feeling that she'd been chasing the Jarvey for a while now, and that Mali might have escaped into the nearby Forest. If he had, she was afraid the poor ferret would be gone for good.

            "Oh, is 'e yers?" Hagrid asked. "Li'l grey one, real friendly? Cause I found one jus' like that righ' before this one ran off. 'E was tryin' to get inter th' pen I had this one's brothers in. Natural enemies, ferrets and Jarveys. Too similar, see?"

            "So he's okay?" Autumn asked, relieved. "Oh, good. Good. Thank God." She was surprised to find out just how relieved she was. She hadn't realized she'd been that attached to her pet. "Where is he?"

            "Back at my house," Hagrid told her. "I left 'im wi' some friends while I went after this one." He glanced down at Autumn's hand. "Bit yeh, did 'e? Madam Pomfrey gave me some salve fer bites when she heard I was gettin' in a litter o' Jarveys. Their bites can hurt somethin' awful if yeh don' treat 'em quick. Best follow me back, then."

            "Those things aren't poisonous, are they?" Autumn asked suspiciously, as Hagrid led her back to his cabin.

            "Jarveys? Nah," Hagrid said. "Jus' like ter bite."

            "Oh." Knowing what she did of Hagrid, Autumn interpreted this to mean that Jarveys were nasty, vicious creatures that lived for the sole purpose of feasting on the flesh of all other beings. "Right."

            "Here we go," Hagrid said, as they reached his house. "You go on in, while I stick this feller back wi' his brothers an' sisters." He disappeared around the back of the house.

            Autumn shrugged, and pushed the door open. Then she groaned. "Doesn't it figure?" She recognized two of the three students sitting around the wooden table as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and she assumed the girl with them was Hermione Granger.

            "What're you doing here?" Ron demanded suspiciously.

            "Hagrid caught my ferret," Autumn said. "And one of his little monsters bit me."

            "If you mean the Jarveys, they aren't monsters," the girl informed her. Yep, that was Hermione, all right. "They're helpful. Some gardeners use them to get rid of gnomes and other pests."

            "Yeah, well, it still bit me," Autumn snapped. "That counts as monster from where I'm standing. Plus I think some of them were fighting with my ferret."

            "So this ferret you keep talking about," Harry spoke up. "Is this it?" He held up a silver ferret that had been curled up on his lap.

            "Mali!" Autumn hurried forward to snatch her pet away from the Gryffindor's clutches. "You stupid little rodent! Don't ever run away from me again, or I'll feed you to Millicent's cat!" Mali just ran up Autumn's arm, settling in his favorite spot, curled on her shoulder.

            "You named it Mali?" Hermione asked in distaste. "Isn't that a little effeminate for a male ferret?"

            Autumn shrugged. "I like it." She grinned suddenly. "But Mali isn't his full name, of course. His actual name is Draco Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, but that's a bit long for everyday use."

            Ron gave a great snort of laughter, forgetting that this was a Slytherin speaking. "Oh, that's priceless! Does Malfoy know?"

            At Autumn's nod, Harry frowned. "That seems a little mean," he said.

            Ron stared at Harry incredulously. "Are you insane? This is Malfoy we're talking about. Mean is the only thing he understands."

            Harry laughed. "I meant, mean to the ferret," he clarified. That caused Autumn to raise an eyebrow. She was fairly sure he hadn't meant that at all. He strengthened her suspicions when he quickly changed the subject. "I'm glad you're feeling better," Harry said, looking at Autumn. "After that curse on your voice, I mean. There weren't any permanent effects, were there?"

            Autumn shrugged uncomfortably. "What do you care?" Harry just kept looking at her. "No, there weren't. I'm fine, okay?"

            At that point, the back door swung open and Hagrid entered his hut. "Oh, good, yeh got yer pet back," he said, seeing Mali on Autumn's shoulder. "Now, let's take a look at that bite on yer hand." He got a jar of ointment and a roll of bandages from the cupboards.

            "Now – " Hagrid stopped, looking from his giant hands to the small jar and bandages, and it was just possible that his face flushed red under his beard. "Well – uh – Harry, why don' yeh help out? Jus' spread that salve – "

            "That's okay!" Autumn said hastily, nipping that plan in the bud. "I can do it myself. Really." She had no intention of letting Potter spread anything on her.

            Applying the salve to her own hand was awkward, but Autumn managed it. The bandages, however, were another story. "Oh, here," Hermione finally said, exasperated with Autumn's attempts. "Let me do it, if you don't want a boy touching you." Ignoring Autumn's protests that that wasn't what it was, Hermione expertly wrapped the other girl's hand and tied the bandage off. "There."

            Autumn wrinkled her nose. "How long does that have to stay on? I thought magic was supposed to make healing go faster."

            "It does," Hermione said. "And it prevents scarring. The bandage is to keep the bite clean. You'll need it for an hour or so."

            "Don't tell me you've read books on those ferrety things," Autumn said in disbelief.

            "I've read books on healing magic," Hermione said with a sniff. "It's quite interesting."

            "Whatever," Autumn said, stepping back, away from the Gryffindors. "I'm going to go now, before something else jumps out and bites me." She looked from the trio to Hagrid, debating a thank you. She settled on a shrug and, "See you around," before she hurried out.

            After that encounter, Autumn didn't waste much time wandering aimlessly. She was cold and grumpy, and her hand hurt. She was going back inside that castle. Actually, she realized as she checked her watch, she had to go back in the castle, if she intended to catch Blaise finishing his meeting with Terry. She walked faster. If Blaise did come out of that room with a broken heart, Autumn wanted to be there for him when he did. He could watch while she beat Terry to a bloody pulp. She studiously ignored the fact that Terry was considerably larger than she was as she made these plans.

            As Autumn approached the Astronomy classroom, she slowed nervously. Mandy was there already, finger-combing her hair pensively. "Hi," Autumn said uncomfortably.

            Mandy looked up. "Oh. Feeling better, are you? Not going to shout again?"

            "Not at you, anyway," Autumn said, with a small smile. "Maybe at Terry." She looked down, too embarrassed to meet Mandy's eyes as she said the next part. "Look, I was taking stuff out on you that wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have yelled, so I'm sorry." She looked up, to see how Mandy would take it.

            The Ravenclaw raised her eyebrows. "Well, at least you know you messed up," she said. "Don't do that again, okay? I'm not like Blaise – I actually have other friends, and I'm not going to spend my time with someone who screams at me."

            "Right." Autumn nodded. "No more screaming. Got it. So does that mean we're good?"

            Mandy took a moment to consider this. "Yeah," she agreed at last. "I guess we are." There was a moment of silence, neither girl quite sure what to say. Finally, Mandy said, "So what color should I dye my hair next?"

            That conversation entertained them long enough that they didn't realize it was past time for Blaise and Terry to be done until the door to the classroom opened. Terry strode out, followed by a beaming Blaise, and approached Autumn. "One hour," he told her.

            Autumn checked her watch and frowned. "That was more than an hour," she said. "Closer to an hour and fifteen minutes. Do you think I'll give you extra stuff for talking longer?"

            Terry gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I was explaining fractal spells to Zabini," he said. "I figured I might as well finish."

             "Terry's so interesting," Blaise added dreamily.

            Mandy snorted. "You'd think flobberworms were interesting, if Terry was talking about them."

            "You like flobberworms?" Blaise asked Terry, puzzled. "Why?"

            "I hate animals," Terry said flatly. "They make noise, smell bad, or bite. Or all of the above."

            "Except flobberworms, right?" Blaise said. "Do you like them because they don't do any of those things?"

            Terry stared at Blaise. "Are you mentally unstable?"

            Blaise blinked. "I don't think so." He looked at Autumn and Mandy. "Am I?"

            Terry shook his head. "Never mind." He turned to Autumn. "So I get coffee every morning from now on?"

            Autumn nodded. She'd gone back to the hospital wing earlier to get more specific instructions about talking to the House Elves from Madam Pomfrey. "I'll arrange it later today."

            "Good." Terry began to walk off.

            "Wait!" Blaise wriggled past Autumn and Mandy, to follow Terry. "Are you going to the Quidditch match tomorrow?"

            Terry turned around slowly. "You're still talking to me."

            "Yep!" Blaise grinned. "Are you going?"

            "Why?" Terry asked suspiciously.

            "Well, if you're going to go, maybe you could sit with me," Blaise said hopefully.

             Terry frowned. "Are you asking me on a date?"

            "Will you say yes if I say yes?" Blaise asked.

            Terry closed his eyes at that, and raised his hands to rub his temples. "You're going to keep stalking me, aren't you?" he asked. "No matter what I say right now, you're going to sit near me regardless."

            "Well…" Blaise blinked. "Yeah. Of course."

            "Thought so." Terry sighed. "Whatever. You can do what you like." He turned and walked away.

            Blaise couldn't contain his excitement, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "He said yes!"

            "No, he didn't," Mandy said. "He said 'whatever.'"

            "Which means yes!" Blaise flung his arms out and spun in a circle. "I'm going on a real date with Terry, to a real Quidditch game!"

            "Bloody hell. Are you joking?"

            Autumn and Mandy looked across the hall. Draco Malfoy had approached while they were occupied with Blaise and Terry, and he seemed to have no qualms about eavesdropping on their conversation.

            "It's none of your business," Autumn snapped. "Get lost."

            "In a straight hallway?" Draco looked first left, then right, with exaggerated concentration. "Bit difficult, that."

            Hearing the voice of his namesake, Mali looked up from where he'd been dozing on Autumn's shoulder. He snarled. Autumn grinned. "Oh, look, he remembers you, Malfoy. Isn't that cute?"

            "You still have that thing?" Draco stared at it in horror.

            "Of course," Autumn said sweetly. "How could I get rid of my darling pet?" She held Mali out towards Draco, and the ferret stretched out to snap at Draco's arm. Draco jumped back quickly. "I think he likes you," Autumn said.

            Draco straightened at that, his expression rapidly changing to a smooth smile. Autumn frowned suspiciously. Had he decided it was beneath him to be afraid of a ferret? She wouldn't be surprised.

            "Of course he likes me," Draco said. "I'm very likeable, didn't you know?"

            Mandy rather spoiled the delivery of that line by laughing loudly. Draco shot her an annoyed glance. "Shut it, Brocklehurst," he snapped. "Just because I've never chosen to waste my charm on you doesn't mean I can't be likeable when the mood takes me."

            "Yeah, sure," Mandy said, grinning. "You just keep on telling yourself that, Malfoy."

            Draco sniffed, and pointedly ignored her. "It's possible I overreacted to your pet," he said to Autumn. "I apologize. Would you allow me to make it up to you?"

            Autumn stared at him as if he'd sprouted a halo and wings. "No."

            Draco looked briefly flustered, but recovered quickly, turning the dazzle of his smile up a notch. Autumn swallowed hard, and told herself very firmly that she did not care whether Draco smiled at her or not.

            "I'll just have to surprise you, then," Draco said softly.

            "Like you surprised her with a curse?" Blaise wanted to know. "Or will this surprise be more like flowers?"

            "Shut up, Zabini," Draco ground out, not taking his eyes off Autumn.

            "You're acting like it's going to be flowers," Blaise said thoughtfully. "Roses, I think. Red ones. I thought you didn't like Autumn. How come you want to give her roses now?"

            "I'm not going to give her roses!" Draco snapped.

            "Any flowers you gave a girl would probably be poisonous," Autumn retorted, noting with horror that her face was heating up with a blush. The way Draco was acting reminded her far too much of the way he'd been right before kissing her. She decided to ignore it. Maybe it would go away.

            "Are you saying you'd like poisonous flowers?" Draco asked swiftly.

            "What, you're threatening me now?" Autumn demanded. "You've already cursed me, are you going to try to kill me? And then people wonder why I won't sit with the Slytherins anymore!"

            "Do you want to come back?" Draco asked. "I'd be honored if you'd sit with me, if you wish."

            Autumn couldn't decide whether to turn her incredulous glare on Draco, for whatever bout of insanity had taken him over, or on Mandy, who was now laughing so hard she had to lean against the wall for support. "Is that what this is about?" she asked, finally deciding on Draco as the far more glare-worthy of the two. "You're making a fuss about Slytherin solidarity? We all have to band together against the other three nasty Houses?"

            "People usually say Slytherins are the nasty ones," Blaise said helpfully.

            "Yes, I'm aware," Autumn said, looking at Blaise. It was a relief not to face Draco anymore. She didn't like the way he looked at her. It threw her off balance. "That was sarcasm."

            "Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor," Mandy said, grinning.

            "You aren't helping," Autumn said coldly.

            Mandy's grin only widened. "Wasn't trying to." She looked at Draco. "Well, come on, where's the snappy retort? You've had plenty of time to come up with something clever."

            Draco gave her a withering look. "Don't you have homework to be doing?"

            "That's it? That's the best you can do?" Mandy laughed. "Please. I'd at least have gotten in a crack about doing teachers for grades. That was just sad."

            "He must be losing his touch," Autumn said. She smiled maliciously. "Want me to come up with some good insults for you, Malfoy? I'd hate to have you coming into our little fights unarmed. I'm sure I can put a few insults into single-syllable words you can understand."

            "I'm sure you can teach me a considerable amount," Draco said, inclining his head.

            Autumn very nearly backed away in her suspicion. What the hell was wrong with this boy? Since when did he refuse to insult her? And what was with his response to her insult – had he been trying to compliment her? It sounded scarily like he had. She was about to reply when Draco froze, head tilted as if listening for –

            An explosion thundered through the air above them, quaking across walls and ceilings. Autumn staggered as the stones in the floor shifted under her feet, reaching out for the wall to steady herself. Draco scrambled forward, knocking her over in his haste, as a chunk of the ceiling crashed down on where he'd been standing. Autumn stared up at him, hating herself for noticing just how close he was to her. She shoved him away from her, pulling herself to her feet.

            Draco met Autumn's eyes for a moment, and Autumn was sure she saw something there that shouldn't have been. Was it recognition? Horror? Disgust? She didn't have long to consider it, because he turned and bolted for the nearest set of stairs. Not about to let him run off until he explained that look, she took off after him.

            But when she reached the stairs, she had another shock. Draco wasn't running down, away from the explosion – he was going up.

---------

            Smoke. Fire. Burning feathers. Owls screeching. It was all so familiar. Was he hallucinating them again? Was this a flashback to the curse from earlier? Draco couldn't tell. As he raced up the stairs, unsure why he was so desperate to reach the top, frantic human screams mingled with the other sounds.

            Finally, Draco reached the Owlery, at the top of the stairs. He stopped dead in his track, causing Autumn, who he hadn't realized was following him, to crash into him.

            "Oh, my God," Autumn whispered, staring over Draco's shoulder at the ruins of the Owlery. Sinistra and McGonagall were already there, casting hasty spells in attempts to prevent more damage. "What happened?"

            "An attack is what happened," McGonagall answered sharply. "That's plain to see. Where did you two come from?"

            "We were downstairs," Autumn said. "There was an explosion – "

            "We noticed that," Sinistra snapped, edging around an unstable-looking owl perch. "This is no place for students. Get out, both of you! Go back to your Common Room."

            Draco ignored her, entering the Owlery to get a better look at the destruction. His stomach roiled as a new stench hit him. Blood. The sharp, nauseating smell of blood was all through the room. He gagged as the taste of it seeped into his mouth, but that didn't stop him. He had to see it. He had to know if it was what he feared.

            Picking his way to the center of the Owlery, or as near to it as he could get, Draco forced himself to turn in a full circle, taking in as much of the scene as he could. The sight of the dead birds made his stomach heave again, but he swallowed hard and kept his attention on the room. Somehow, he could remember this scene. He felt as though he'd been there before, so long ago that the memory was hazy.

            When Draco turned to face the large window through which owls entered, Draco gasped, turning white. Spectral flames of orange and red danced before him, and clouds of shadowy grey dust flew up in his face. He couldn't help it – he screamed – the flames would burn him to cinders –

            "Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall slapped Draco sharply on each cheek. "Calm down! If you must shriek, go to the hospital wing to do it. I'm certain Madam Pomfrey won't notice one more student in shock after this."

            "The fire," Draco stammered, shaken at how quickly the flames had disappeared. "The dust – it's gone. What – how – "

            "It was a bomb," Sinistra said impatiently. "Some Muggle contraption, by the look of it. We'll need Angela up here for the specifics, of course. Now get out of here. Go to the hospital wing or your Common Room, I don't care, but go! We don't have time to nursemaid hysterical children!" She looked around. "You, Vance! Help Malfoy out of here. I don't think he can make it on his own."

            But Draco jerked away from Autumn, before she could say a word. He didn't want her to touch him. He couldn't stand the thought of her touching him. He couldn't explain how, but he knew that the Witness had done this. The thought made him sick, though it might have been the effects of the smell of blood and death. He made his way to the stairs and stumbled down, eyes glazed.

            He'd seen it before it happened. He was sure of it. What had happened before, when he'd collapsed, it hadn't been a curse or a hangover. He'd seen this. Well, smelled it mostly, and heard it. But he'd known about it before it happened, and he hadn't used tea leaves or a crystal ball or any other props the Divination classes used.

            Draco leaned against the wall, feeling himself trembling as though his body belonged to someone else. He tried to stop shaking, but he couldn't. Why was he reacting this way? He felt ashamed of his body, disappointed in its weakness. After all, he was a Malfoy. Malfoys didn't get sick at the thought of a little blood or a few dead birds. They didn't wish that they'd realized what would happen sooner, so they could have stopped it.

            Footsteps followed Draco down the stairs, slowing as they approached. Draco looked up. It was Autumn. His whole body convulsed with horror at the sight of her. The Witness had done that. He knew it as surely as he knew he'd seen the disaster beforehand. The Witness was the cause, and Autumn was the Witness. Autumn had done it. And now she had the nerve to stand there staring at him as if she had no idea what was going on.

            "What was all that?" Autumn demanded. Draco braced himself against the wall, looking away. He'd flirted with her. He'd kissed her. The smell of death tainted the air about her, and he'd kissed her. "Did you know that was going to happen?"

            That was it. That was the breaking point. She knew he'd known about it, she knew he knew she'd done it. She was going to prevent him from telling anyone. Draco turned and fled down the stairs, away from her, away from the fiery death and the sickening blood above her. He didn't care what his father said. He didn't care if she was a Death Eater, if she reported his actions to the Dark Lord. He couldn't stand to be near Autumn Vance any longer.

---------

Author's Note: Compared to other chapters, this part contained much more of what it was supposed to than I'd expected. Usually the last third or so ends up getting postponed till the next part, but that ending was right where I wanted it. Yay!

Anyway, the next chapter will contain much confusion and panic throughout Hogwarts. More time will be spent with the Ravenclaws, and... well, I don't think I can say much more about the plot without giving away surprises, but there will be Quidditch.

Disclaimer: Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling. The song lyrics are from "Happiness in Slavery" by Nine Inch Nails.

Thank you everyone who reviewed!

Kat6528, Dark Angel31, Sorting Hat Killer, AerinBrown (I miss Lianne, too. That was actually part of the reason Blaise developed in the direction he did.), Sharem, Arella Hallo, rowan j. weasley (As far as I know, the Blaise from the books has no defined gender. A gay boy is a nice mix of both worlds. ), KeeperOfTheMoon, Kalika Aryn, Yoko (Yes, Lianne really _is_ that immature, or at least she acts that way.), Suzaka, Scegan, Queen Guenevere, Australianchic, Delaney Skye (Hazel might not be reappearing for a little while yet, but Harry and Remus definitely will.), Fluffy the Teddy Bear Slayer, Potters-chick01, Blood57, San-san, Lady Doral, milocachica, Ambrelic Eyes, TheEverBurning, Caroline Hal, Dizzy Flower, hobbitinguard, SiMonE (You've had dreams about my story? Wow, I'm flattered. Even I've never done that. Cool!), Crazy Courtney, Adi1, Allore NightShadow, liblondeiy214, Jessica Dawn, Greenwalled, lavender baby.

Zhai'helleva!

 – Mystica


	24. Silence Broken

Dreaming of You

Author's Note: Well, I hadn't intended to post on anymore, but as so often happens, my resolve crumbled. Ah, well. So much for principles.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, and ideas belong to J. K. Rowling. The song lyrics are from "Insh' Allah" by Heather Alexander.

**_Part 23 – Silence Broken_**

_And the dangerous path of truth I seek  
I have spoken more than I wish to hear  
And have found it weak_

**Chapter 39**

The ruin of the Owlery cast depression over the entire school. Of the students who did not own pet owls themselves, almost all of them had friends who did. The only owls to escape unharmed were those that were not in the Owlery at the time of the explosion. Over two-thirds of the birds were killed at once, and of those that survived, many were so badly injured that they died of their wounds before Madam Pomfrey could get to them. All students with knowledge of healing magic were enlisted, but since only the most basic of healing was taught in Charms class, they were woefully few.

The only positive aspect of the attack was that no humans had been harmed, and that was small consolation to those mourning beloved pets. Once the professors had ensured that what remained of the Owlery, and the tower beneath it, would not collapse any further, Dumbledore decreed that there would be a mass funeral for the dead owls that evening, open to all students.

When the time came to gather in the Great Hall, Autumn and Blaise went to sit with the Ravenclaws again – this time not to protest the Slytherins, but to support their friends. Mandy's owl, Irides the Third, had been one of those killed. While Mandy wasn't as devastated as some of the other students whose owls had been in their families for years, she was still upset. To give voice to her feelings, she'd dyed her hair a harsh, unbecoming black, and grown it out to her waist.

"You look like the Goth kids back at my old high school," was Autumn's opinion.

Mandy shrugged. "Black is for mourning. Irides was a good owl, you know. I figure I owe her something, and my hair's as good as anything."

At that point, conversation died away as Dumbledore stood up to speak. "Before I say anything else," he said gravely, "I would like to apologize to all the students who have been touched by loss today. We were attacked in a way that the other professors and I did not expect, and you are the ones who have been hurt. I only wish that we had thought to take measures to prevent this tragedy.

"Since we did not," the Headmaster continued, "I feel it is only fair to offer you an explanation of what occurred. Many of you may have already guessed the origin of this attack, but if you have, please bear with me while I explain. Lord Voldemort – " gasps were heard throughout the Hall " – sent an owl carrying a Muggle bomb into the Owlery. This bomb had no harmful magic in it to trigger our protective wards, and thus was carried into the school unhindered."

This statement produced even more of a reaction than Voldemort's name. Students turned to one another, chattering frantically, until the noise overwhelmed Dumbledore's attempts to continue. Autumn didn't blame them. She looked over at Mandy. "Isn't Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place in Britain?" she asked.

"That's what they tell us," Mandy said.

Autumn snorted. "I'd hate to live in the rest of Britain, then. Sounds to me like you lot attract the Dark magic attacks, not repel them."

"It's not usually this bad," Blaise protested. He frowned. "Well, okay, maybe it is, but usually the evil stuff just goes after the Gryffindors." He reconsidered. "Except for that one time with the basilisk. That was scary. I kept asking Draco about it, and he said the monster of Slytherin would crawl into our dorm room and eat me because I talked too much." Blaise grew thoughtful. "I don't think Draco knew very much about basilisks."

Autumn stared at him. "How did you get from owls to basilisks?"

"No, we don't need to hear it again," Mandy cut Blaise off, scowling at Autumn. "Really, wasn't once enough? Anyway, looks like Dumbledore's about ready to start again."

Or rather, the students were finally calming down enough to let their Headmaster speak once more. "I do not want you to misunderstand me," Dumbledore said, as soon as it was quiet enough for him to be heard. "Precautions have been taken against this sort of disaster happening again. From now on, all mail will be directed to the Post Office in Hogsmeade. Once a day, one of their employees will deliver the mail to the school, where your Heads of House will distribute it every day at dinner. The Owlery will be closed until further notice. I suggest that those of you who have surviving birds send your pets home to your parents. If you wish to send out a letter, I'm afraid you'll have to give it to your House Head, and it will be sent to Hogsmeade the next day. I apologize for the inconvenience of this approach, but it was necessary in order for the new protections around the school to be effective.

"Now," the Headmaster said, "let's head outside, where the rest of the ceremony will take place."

As the students all headed out to gather in the area just outside the castle entrance, Autumn realized that in the jostling, she'd ended up walking near Harry Potter and his two loyal followers. She winced at the shell-shocked expression on his face.

"Sorry about your bird, Potter," she said. She actually did feel bad for the boy. She'd been so upset when she'd thought Mali might be lost, and Potter had at least been involved in rescuing the ferret. She might not like him much, but he'd helped her out twice when he hadn't had to. Even if she did find that sort of unthinking kindness a little sickening, Autumn thought it was pretty rotten for all these bad things to keep happening to one of the few really _nice_ people she'd met.

Harry looked over at Autumn, startled at being addressed. "Thanks," he said simply.

Autumn nodded, and, passing through the bottleneck of the doorway out into the relatively open space, she moved away towards Blaise and Mandy. She might feel bad for Potter, but that didn't mean she was going to start hanging around with him. That would just be ridiculous.

………..

Returning from the ceremony honoring the dead owls, Draco realized how few Slytherins had been in attendance. And then, thinking back, he realized that almost all the Slytherins who owned owls had sent them out on long trips over the past couple days. For that matter, so had any student whose parents were rumored to be supporters of the Dark Arts.

They'd been warned. There was no other explanation. A cold weight froze the bottom of Draco's chest. Why hadn't his father warned him? Had this been some kind of punishment, or a test? Had Lucius simply felt it was too much bother keeping two owls, and chosen this method to dispose of Draco's pet?

Draco shivered violently, and not just from the chill of the castle in late November. He'd been fond of his owl, and of the Owlery, and the Witness had destroyed them both. He felt something stirring within him, something deep and far-reaching, and he welcomed its numbing cold. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy knew how to do, it was hate. And this hate was far more powerful than any schoolboy grudge he harbored for Potter.

Draco had always known he didn't really want to be a Death Eater, but this was the first time he'd felt the immovable conviction that he was never going to serve Voldemort. It wasn't just a question of morality, or a newly-found conscience. It was the Dark Lord's strategy. The cold, calculating part of Draco was horrified at the lack of planning in the attacks. In the long run, what good would it do to kill all the owls at Hogwarts? Yes, it was making everyone scared and angry, and certainly confidence in Dumbledore was being lost, but the bad aspects Draco saw clearly outweighed the good. Now Dumbledore was on guard against further attacks, and a perfectly good opportunity to sneak traps into Hogwarts through the Owlery had been lost.

If anyone had asked Draco, he knew what he would have suggested. Any idiot knew how to use the element of surprise. He would have waited until Potter and Dumbledore were lulled into complacency, and then overwhelmed the castle with sheer numbers of Death Eaters. It wouldn't be hard to attack during, say, a mealtime. All the attackers would have to do would be to grab a few first years and hold them hostage. Anyone stupid enough to fight back wouldn't dare risk the murder of innocents. Once Potter and Dumbledore had been disarmed, the attackers could kill them at leisure. So Potter survived Avada Kedavra. There were other ways to kill someone. They could Stun him and chop his head off, if they liked, and do the same to Dumbledore. Problem solved.

But no one had asked Draco, and they'd gone ahead with that melodramatic Howler and the useless Muggle explosive device. The Howler frankly disgusted Draco – what was the point of giving an enemy fair warning? And destroying the Owlery hadn't done anything to Potter except make him furious. The whole slaughter had been pointless, like a child showing off just to prove he could. Draco might agree with some of the Dark Lord's principles about Muggles and Mudbloods, but not the way they'd been put into action. There was no way he was going to become a Death Eater, not if it meant following plans like these.

Draco was almost at the Slytherin Common Room when he stopped abruptly. He couldn't face going in there, not now. He didn't want to hear Pansy and Asin going on about how wonderfully clever the Witness was to have organized this. He didn't want to think about the Witness, not until he'd decided what he was going to do about her. Her actions still disgusted him, filling him with an indescribable loathing for her. Whatever he was going to do, it would be far more than the petty vengeance of a curse. He was going to show Autumn Vance how one should fight against a hated enemy.

Draco turned and went back the way he'd come, heading for the nearest staircase. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go yet, but since most of the school was above the Slytherin Common Room, up seemed like a good place to start.

"Mr. Malfoy, I believe your Common Room is in the opposite direction."

Draco looked up. Coming down the stairs towards him were Professor Snape and Professor Deva. "I'm aware. I'm not going there."

"It's hardly safe to be wandering around the corridors alone," Deva said.

Draco shrugged. "I have things to do."

"I'm certain," Snape said dryly. "So have I, and yet here I stand. The Headmaster has decreed that there will be another round of questioning the students. If I have to suffer, so do you. Back to the Common Room until we've gotten to you. Then you can wander till you drop dead from exhaustion."

Draco scowled. Aside from going back to the Common Room, he didn't want to be questioned. This wasn't like the Howler, where he hadn't really known anything about who'd sent it. He was going to have to lie his way through this interview, and while he normally didn't have any doubts about his ability to lie convincingly, Snape had the disturbing ability to sense a deception.

Deva seemed to misinterpret this scowl as an expression of how Draco's tender feelings had been callously wounded by Snape's cruel words. "Oh, that's not nice," she exclaimed, smiling cheeringly at Draco. "Really, Severus, if you're in such a hurry, why don't you go to the Slytherin Common Room and get started? I'll interview Draco here by myself, so he can go on to whatever he was going."

Before Snape could object, Deva had Draco by the arm and was steering him away. "I'll be down to join you in just a few minutes," she called.

Though startled by this sudden turn of events, Draco allowed Deva to lead him off. This would neatly solve both of his current problems – he wouldn't have to deal with the other Slytherins yet, and he wouldn't have to lie to Snape. It seemed that Deva had returned to her former good opinion of Draco, so lying to her shouldn't be too difficult.

Deva brought Draco into the first empty classroom they found, closing the door behind them and taking the precaution of casting a Silencing Charm around the room. "Now, then, Draco," she said, sitting at a desk across from him, "why don't you tell me if you know anything about this attack?"

"I'm afraid I don't," Draco said, schooling his expression to one of deep regret.

"Really? Not anything?" Deva asked. "Because I was sure that if anyone in Slytherin could have figured out something about these mysterious attacks, it would be you."

Draco smiled, pretending to be flattered, rather than irritated by such an obvious ploy. "Thank you, Professor, but I don't see how you think I could have any information about an attack," he said. "I was as surprised as anyone."

"Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten." Deva's face softened. "Your owl was one of the ones that died, wasn't it? You must have terrible luck. I think you might just be the only Slytherin to have lost an owl."

"Really?" Draco gave her a look of surprise. "Well, then I'm just glad that none of my friends lost their pets." He considered adding a line about how they wouldn't have to suffer as he did, but decided that might be a little much.

"How sweet of you." Deva smiled at him. "Anyone else would suspect some sort of conspiracy. It's so refreshing to see a young man with his faith in others still alive."

"Right." Draco blinked. Was that just a coincidence, or did Deva actually know that the other Slytherins had received warnings? No, surely she couldn't, or she and Snape would be breaking out the Veritaserum instead of asking stupid questions.

"Won't you try to jog your memory just one more time?" Deva urged him. "You're so observant, Draco – I'm sure you can think of something you want to tell me."

Draco shook his head. "You're asking the wrong person, Professor," he said. "I don't know a thing."

"Well… if you're sure," Deva said reluctantly, standing up. "But remember, Draco, if you think of anything that might be helpful – anything at all that you want to tell me – feel free to come talk to me at any time. After all," she smiled brightly at him, "that's why I'm here – to listen." With a friendly wink, she dispelled the Silencing Charm and left.

Draco blinked again, this time with horror. His professor had _winked_ at him? Oh, that was bad. That put a whole new light on some of the things she'd said. Had she been flirting with him? God, he hoped not. Draco shuddered, cursing his Malfoy charm. It would be all he needed now if a teacher decided she wanted to be "more than friends" with him.

Quickly, Draco left the classroom before Deva tried to come back. For that matter, he decided to put a few floors between them. He headed up towards the library. Maybe he could find something to read that would take his mind off everything that had been happening.

Madam Pince gave Draco a sharp glance as he entered the library. "You ought to be back in your Common Room," she told him severely.

"They said I could go," Draco said, giving her his best smile. "You won't even know I'm here."

Madam Pince snorted her opinion of the likeliness of that, but left him to his own devices. Draco wandered over to the fiction section, idly skimming the titles. Nothing really caught his interest. When all was said and done, this was still a school library. The latest thrillers were hardly going to be in stock on these shelves. After realizing that a book he'd picked up, something about a little furry person called a "hobbit," had been written while his father was in school, Draco abandoned this section for a time when he had a bit more patience.

Not wanting to leave yet, Draco went into the considerably more extensive nonfiction section of the library. Maybe he could find a book on magical creatures – a proper book, not that God-awful biting one Hagrid made them use. Draco had had such high hopes for that class, before he'd found out that that oaf of a gamekeeper was going to teach it. Lucius never let Draco near any of the interesting creatures he kept on the grounds to discourage prowlers, considering his only heir too valuable to risk being torn limb from limb. Draco thought his father might as well not have bothered – with the way Hagrid organized that class, he might get torn limb from limb anyway.

But on his way across the library, Draco got distracted by another section – the books on Divination. Draco stopped as if in a trance, staring up at the shelves of books on Divination. Why hadn't he come here in the first place? This was it – these were books that could tell him more about the vision he'd had. What had triggered it? Would it happen again? Why had it happened to him? He could find the answers here.

That is, if he could figure out where to look. There had to be at least a dozen shelves on the subject, each full to bursting. How could he sort through all this, to find what he needed to know? Draco knew better than to ask Madam Pince. Even assuming she'd actually help him, he'd have to deal with pointed questions about why he wanted the books, what he was going to do with them, and whether he intended to eat while reading them. All Hogwarts students quickly learned that it was easier to muddle through the library on their own than to ask Madam Pince for help.

Well, Draco reasoned, he had to start somewhere. Just looking at the covers of the books wasn't going to do him any good. He picked a book at random. _The World Beyond: The One True Guide_. Well, that sounded promising. Not inclined to sit at a table where anyone could see him, Draco leaned against the opposite bookcase and began flipping through the book. It seemed to be mostly about the different methods of divining.

"If you're looking for a book on Divination, that's hardly the one to start with."

Draco looked up, startled. A Chinese girl was watching him with mild interest. Draco vaguely recognized her as a Ravenclaw from his year – Susan, was it? No, Su, that was it. Su Li. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Su shrugged. "Well, at the moment I'd quite like some books to help me with my Divination charts, but you seem to be blocking them."

"You know what I meant," Draco said. "What were you talking about before?"

Su laughed. "I should think it fairly obvious. That book you're reading with such an intense scowl is one of the least effective books on Divination I've come across. If you knew anything about Divination, which I'm quite certain you don't, you'd have realized it the moment you read more than a paragraph."

Draco looked down at the book in disgust. He'd begun having thoughts along those lines himself before Su had spoken. "Then what's it doing wasting shelf space in the library if it's so awful?"

"Professor Trelawney is fond of it, I believe," Su said. She sighed. "It really is most unfortunate that the only Divination teacher our dear Headmaster could find had to be such a – how can I put this delicately?" Su frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "I don't believe I can. Shall we say a talentless charlatan preferring the foolish fripperies of the Arts over the substance? That does cover it nicely."

"Oh?" Draco recalled his mother saying something of the sort when he'd been considering taking Divination as one of his electives. Narcissa's family apparently had strong views about fake Seers, and she'd insisted that no son of hers would take lessons from a fraud.

"Indeed," Su said. "If you wish to continue reading your book, I certainly wouldn't dream of stopping you, but I thought it only fair to warn you of its contents. I should hate to think that any student might gain false information from a book when it lay in my power to prevent such a horror."

"Then what book do you think I should be looking at?" Draco asked hopefully. If she could direct him to the more useful books, it would save him lots of time and effort.

"Well, that would depend on what you want to learn, wouldn't it?" Su said reasonably. "For example, there are several lovely books on astrology I might recommend, but they would be perfectly useless to you if you sought information on the lives of famous Seers. At any rate," she shrugged, "I see no benefit to myself in helping you with your research. I've delivered my warning, but beyond that I can't think of one reason for me to aid you."

Draco sighed. Why did every Ravenclaw have to demand a price for help? "Fine. Do you want money, or am I going to have to buy you something?"

Su laughed brightly. "Oh, nothing like that, dear," she said. "I'm nowhere near so crassly material as Mandy. No, I can certainly afford to buy anything I wish for myself." She leaned forward. "What I lack is amusement. People are so dreadfully dull. If you can make it sufficiently entertaining, I shall help you most gladly."

"How am I supposed to entertain you?" Draco asked incredulously. "Forget it. I'll do it myself."

"Oh, no, you needn't," Su protested. "It's hardly difficult. Tell me what mystery of the future brings you to the shelves of Divination. Never have you shown any interest in such things, except for the more easily comprehended answers of Arithmancy. Such a tale could hold nothing less than fascination. Grant a moment of your time to tell me your story, and I shall give in exchange a moment's search for books to aid you in your quest."

Draco considered it for a moment. He really wanted answers to his questions now, without having to wade through all these books… but then again, he didn't want anyone to know he'd had a vision till he understood it better. It was more than just a Slytherin's common sense – it could be dangerous if word got out that Draco had visions. "No deal," he said finally. "I know how Ravenclaws gossip, and I don't fancy having my private affairs spread through the school by this time tomorrow."

Su sniffed. "Fine, then. You may do whatever you please, of course. But for the sake of my reputation, let me assure you that I do not spread secrets round when told in confidence. What pleasure is there in knowing dark and thrilling tales when all the world knows them just the same? If those who confide in me thought I would repeat their secrets, they would not dare to tell me more."

Draco hesitated, thinking quickly as Su scanned the shelves behind him for the books she'd come for. Most Ravenclaws did have their own rigid codes of honor, though not the noble chivalry that defined Gryffindors. He'd never heard of Su gossiping, and he did try to keep up with school news. Besides, even if Su was planning to spread rumors about him, there could be ways around that.

"Wait," Draco said, before the Ravenclaw could turn to go.

Su looked at him smugly. "I see you have changed your mind."

"Right." Draco prepared to tell her a tale about how his family was considering hiring a Seer and he'd wanted to research their abilities –

– when the skull-shattering pain in his head returned, worse than it had been the first time. With a strangled gasp, Draco slumped to his knees, barely feeling his body hit the floor as a violent wind seemed to whip around him from all directions. A piercing wail knifed through him, and didn't stop even when he tried desperately to cover his ears. He was cold, so cold, and helpless as the wind and the screeching rocked his body back and forth. When the soothing darkness of unconsciousness rescued him from the noise and the pain, it was a blessed relief.

………..

"I just don't see ze point," Miache complained, pacing Snape's office. "Vhy vould Voldemort destroy ze Owlery vhen it does nozzhing but draw attention to 'im?"

"I certainly don't know," Severus said. "And nor do any of the Slytherins, as far as I can tell."

"I suppose zhere is only vun person in zhis school 'oo knows vhy zhis 'appened," Miache said. "And she isn't talking." She picked up an open jar containing something slimy and shriveled. "Vhat is zhis? It smells like it's gone bad."

"Put that down, it's meant to smell that way," Severus snapped, removing the jar from her grasp. "No, she wouldn't talk to us, even if we knew who she was. Pity it wasn't that Vance girl. That would have been easily dealt with."

"True," Miache agreed. "Now ve are back to vondering 'oo vould turn against us." She sighed. "I zhink per'aps ve are approaching zhis from ze wrong angle."

Severus frowned. "How so?"

"Razzer zhan trying to identify ze Vitness from vhat information she lets drop, ve should go directly to ze source," Miache said.

When Severus realized what she meant, he glared at her in extreme annoyance. "You mean your contact finally has a date when we can meet? Why didn't you say so at once?"

"I enjoy tormenting you," Miache said, smirking. "Besides, I 'oped you might 'ave spotted somezhing zhat I did not."

"There was nothing to spot," Severus grumbled. "Well, get on with it – when do I meet him? I trust he's come up with a properly secure location."

"Oh, quite secure," Miache said, smiling in amusement. "Vhere better zhan ze safest place in all of Britain?"

"He's coming here?" Severus said, startled. He studied Miache through narrowed eyes. "You are aware that this is not some sort of game, aren't you? You can't choose locations for their shock value."

"I am 'urt zhat you vould underestimate me so," Miache said, not sounding hurt in the slightest. "I do not make decisions based solely on 'ow much zhey vill irritate you, zhough I admit it is delightful vhen circumstances allow it. 'Ogvarts is ze best choice for many reasons. It is isolated, it is protected, and it 'as a conveniently large and mysterious forest right next to it. Our spy shall not be entering the castle itself, merely ze forest. As I understand it, 'e cannot enter ze castle at zhis time."

"Another vampire?" Severus asked, frowning. "When everyone knows you work here? That will look suspicious."

Miache sighed theatrically. "'Ow little faith you 'ave in me, Severus," she said sadly. "I am most disappointed. I cannot explain my reasoning vizzout revealing my contact's identity, but I 'ope zhat you will believe zhat I 'ave zhought all zhis zhrough." She smiled. "I should 'ate to zhink zhat you 'ave a low opinion of me."

Severus rolled his eyes. If she was fishing for a compliment, she wasn't going to get one. Honestly, the woman took far too much pleasure in badgering him. She'd begun to do it constantly, and had the gall not to confine her pestering to their private meetings. It was unnerving, and worse, it seemed to be affecting the other professors. He'd caught some of them giggling at him the other day – including Sprout and Vector, who ought to be far too old for such nonsense. And when he'd glared at them, they'd only laughed harder.

"I 'ope you are free Vednesday night," Miache said thoughtfully. Severus merely raised his eyebrows, refusing to allow her to bait him. She nodded in acknowledgement of his efforts. "Because zhat is ze time vhen our contact can be 'ere. I vill meet you at ze south edge of ze forest, and guide you in."

"I think I can manage without your help," Severus said, irritated.

"I don't doubt it," Miache said. "But 'ow vill ze poor boy know not to kill you on sight if I am not viz you? 'Ow vill you know not to kill 'im? You are both far too suspicious for your own good."

Severus conceded the point. "All right, then," he said. "What time on Wednesday? Midnight?"

"Oh, no," Miache said. "Zhat early, students are still prowling about. I zhink two o'clock vould be a much better choice. Ve are, after all, children of ze night."

"You may be a creature of the night, but rumors to the contrary I assure you I am nothing of the sort," Severus said. "Still, now that you've finally found someone it would be a pity to have him go up in flames during a daytime meeting. Two in the morning it is."

"Perfect," Miache said as she headed for the door. "I shall look forvard to it." She smiled brightly, and left. Watching her go, Severus couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed a vital part of that conversation.

………..

Knowing that he felt rotten because of a reaction to a vision, rather than because of a hangover, did not make Draco feel any happier about his situation when he woke up. But at least some merciful soul had closed the drapes around his bed, keeping the light from reaching his too-sensitive eyes.

Wait – bed? An alarm bell went off in Draco's head. Hadn't he been in the library? And anyway, this wasn't his bed. His sheets were softer, and his pillow was fluffier. He wondered where he could be, but even that much speculation had made his head pound. He dismissed his worries for a time when he didn't feel as if all the Gryffindors were having one of their horrible post-Quidditch parties in his head.

Unfortunately, though Draco was prepared to go back to sleep and ignore the world, it wasn't prepared to let him. The curtains around his bed had been gradually changing to allow more light to pass through as his eyes adjusted. Though there wasn't much light shining through, it was enough to prevent Draco from sliding peacefully back into sleep. He groaned.

That sound brought him an explanation of where he was. "Oh, are you awake?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "I was wondering how long it would take you. You slept through the night."

It was morning? Draco wondered in astonishment how long he'd been unconscious.

"You're very lucky, you know," the nurse added. "If Miss Li hadn't been nearby when you collapsed, you might be waking up on the cold library floor right now." She sighed. "Well, I'd better have a look at you. Maybe this time I'll be able to do something for you. Close your eyes before I open the drapes."

Not wanting to be blinded by sudden light, Draco quickly shut his eyes. It was a bit unnerving, not being able to see what the nurse was doing as she examined him.

"Well, it's the same thing that happened to you before, as far as I can tell," Madam Pomfrey said at last. "I'm going to give you more hangover cure, but now I'm much more inclined to believe this was something else. I simply don't know what. If the hangover remedy doesn't work – well, then I suppose we'll see."

Draco nodded gingerly, trying not to unleash any more pain on his aching head. Madam Pomfrey briskly helped him to sit up against the headboard and handed him a cup of liquid. He grimaced, recognizing the smell of the tonic he'd had before. It was made all the worse for knowing that a hangover remedy wouldn't have any effect on his current problems. Still, he wasn't about to let on to Madam Pomfrey that he knew exactly why he felt this awful, so he steeled himself and downed the cup.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said, satisfied. "Now, we'll give that some time to see if it works, and then –" She stopped sharply. "Yes, Miss Li? How can I help you?"

"I merely wanted to inquire after Mr. Malfoy's well-being."

Draco forced himself not to wince at hearing Su's voice, but it was a near thing. Why had she come back here? For that matter, why had she helped him in the first place? She knew a lot about Divination – she couldn't have figured out what had happened to him, could she?

"That's very kind of you, Miss Li, but Mr. Malfoy is not up to visitors at the moment," Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "Out, if you please."

"I suppose I must," Su said, not sounding particularly disappointed. "Still, since you insist on sending me away without even speaking to him, I hope you will not refuse to deliver these books to him."

"Books?" Madam Pomfrey's footsteps moved towards the door.

"Yes, of course," Su said politely. "He had them in the library, but in my distress at seeing him fall unconscious to the floor I failed to bring them here last night. Please present them to him, along with my hope that he will have a speedy recovery."

"That's very kind of you, Miss Li," Madam Pomfrey said approvingly. "I'll do that."

"Then I bid you farewell," Su said solemnly. Presumably she left after that, because Madam Pomfrey came back over to Draco.

"I'm sure you heard that, since your ears haven't been damaged," she said, putting something heavy on the bed beside Draco. "Here are your books, if you feel up to looking at them. I have other patients to attend to, so I'm going to close your curtains again. I'll be back to check on you in twenty minutes or so."

After hearing the curtains swish closed, Draco cautiously opened his eyes. Although his head did not stop pounding, there was no added jolt of pain either. Encouraged by this, Draco picked up the first of the three books on the pile beside him and squinted at the title. When he read it, he paled. Su had given him _Windows to the Soul: a Seer's Guide to the Second Sight_ by Raphael Cosmas.

Draco tried to reassure himself that of course this didn't mean Su had guessed that he was a Seer. After all, couldn't she have just felt bad that he'd collapsed? But a look at the other two books dispelled that hope when he realized that they were more of the same. He was considering expressing his feelings by throwing the books across the room when he noticed a bookmark sticking out of one of the books, with the words **READ ME** written across the top. It was in a very unimpressive, battered volume that he probably wouldn't have picked up until he'd worked his way through every other book on the twelve shelves. The title was also rather off-putting, in Draco's opinion – _The Idiot's Guide to Divination_ by Elda Ollivander. Draco objected quite strongly to being called an idiot, even indirectly.

Still, Draco opened the book to the marked page, and discovered that the bookmark was in fact a note.

"I'd start with this chapter," the note advised. "If you follow the instructions, it should help with the headache."

………..

"So… tell me again why the Quidditch match is continuing despite the attack on Hogwarts," Autumn said to Mandy and Blaise as they headed out to the Quidditch pitch.

"Oh, it has to continue!" Blaise said cheerfully. "I can't miss my date with Terry!"

Mandy looked from Blaise to Autumn. "You know, I still can't decide if it's better to enlighten him now, or after Terry curses him again."

"Enlighten me?" Blaise looked down at himself, bewildered. "Am I getting fat?"

"Yes, you're enormous. You really should lay off the chocolate frogs." Mandy sighed, relenting as Blaise appeared seconds away from bursting into tears. "That was sarcasm again. I didn't mean it."

"But you said it," Blaise objected. "Why would you say something you don't mean?"

"Don't worry about it," Autumn advised. "It'll only make your head hurt."

"Okay," Blaise said agreeably. "I wouldn't be able to enjoy being with Terry if my head hurt."

"Hopeless," Mandy muttered.

"Well, with Terry or without him, I'm looking forward to seeing a Quidditch match," Autumn said. "It had better be exciting."

"It generally is, if you like that sort of thing," Mandy said, shrugging. "The players tend to get injured, which is usually pretty entertaining."

"One of the balls attacked Harry Potter in second year," Blaise said. "But he caught the Snitch anyway." He frowned. "Slytherin lost that game because of him."

"You're just figuring this out now?" Mandy asked incredulously. "Sometimes I wonder about what goes on inside your head."

"Lots of things are inside my head," Blaise said cheerfully. "All my brains are there. And Draco says I've got cobwebs and dust, so there must be spiders too. Maybe they catch all the flies that get in through my ears."

Autumn gave Blaise an odd look. "Flies can't get into your head through your ears."

"But they have to be able to," Blaise said reasonably. "What else would the spiders eat?"

Autumn was distracted from trying to come up with a response when they reached the Quidditch pitch. Despite herself, she gaped at the soaring hoops and towering stands decked out in House colors.

"Impressive, huh?" Mandy said, grinning at Autumn.

"Just a bit," Autumn said, trying not to look as though she'd been awed. Mandy smirked.

"There's Terry!" Blaise squeaked, pointing into the Ravenclaw stands.

Autumn squinted up at the seats. "How can you tell? They all look like blobs to me."

"He's the Terry-shaped blob." Blaise waved frantically as they approached the stands. "He isn't waving back! Do you think he can't see me? Maybe I should send up sparks. I could write 'I love you, Terry!' with them."

"And then he'd die of humiliation and you wouldn't get to sit with him," Autumn pointed out.

"Oh, right." Blaise nodded. "You think I should try for something more subtle? I was thinking about a moonlight serenade outside his window, but then I remembered that four other boys live there. It might have gotten confusing."

Mandy stopped short, narrowing her eyes at Blaise. "Do not," she said flatly, "sing outside Ravenclaw Tower."

"Why not?" Blaise asked, frowning. "Do you think I should play the kazoo instead?"

"No," Mandy said. "No music of any kind."

"Doesn't Terry like music?" Blaise asked. "All right, then. I'll remember that." He nodded to himself. "No music."

"Good," Mandy said, continuing forward to the staircase that led up to the top of the Ravenclaw stands.

Much to Autumn's disgust, Terry was seated all the way at the top of the stands. Of

course, those were supposed to be the best seats, but knowing that didn't make the walk any shorter. She wondered if there was some sort of spell she could use to make the walk go more quickly. She was considering levitation when they finally reached the top.

"Hi, Terry!" Blaise said, beaming as he wriggled through to get to the seat next to Terry. "I'm here!"

Terry looked over at Blaise, then at Autumn and Mandy. "You should put him on a leash," he muttered, before turning his attention back to the empty field.

Autumn studied the pair sharply for a moment, to make sure that Terry wasn't going to curse Blaise again, then turned to Mandy. "So what kind of injuries can I expect to see here? Are people going to plummet?"

"Probably not," Mandy said. "I think being able to stay on your broom is a requirement for getting on a team. But there might be some broken bones, and at least three collisions. It would be more if the Slytherins were playing, but the Hufflepuffs tend to be nicer."

"And I assume we're cheering for Ravenclaw," Autumn said.

"Oh, naturally," Mandy said, grinning. "We probably won't win unless Chang gets the Snitch, though. Hufflepuffs tend to be better at teamwork than Ravenclaws, so they usually control the Quaffle." She paused, frowning suddenly. "Hold on – how come you know what I'm talking about? I know I haven't explained Quidditch to you."

Autumn blinked, thinking fast. Even if she'd wanted to tell Mandy about the Potter books – which she didn't – she certainly wasn't going to do so in such a crowded area. "Oh… I read a book about it."

"You did not!" Mandy said indignantly. "You've been whining on and on about how you've got so much schoolwork you haven't had time to do anything else."

"It was a short book," Autumn said defensively, wishing she'd thought of a better excuse.

Mandy snorted, and was about to continue when the voice of the announcer blared through the stands. "Welcome to the second game of the Hogwarts Quidditch season – Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw!"

Mandy scowled, since it was clear that the only way she'd be heard over the announcer was to scream. "Later," she mouthed darkly. Autumn shrugged back. At least this would give her time to come up with a better excuse.

The players flew onto the Quidditch field, accompanied by an icy wind. Autumn shivered. It was so cold in Scotland already, and it wasn't even the worst of the winter yet. She hoped she made it through all right.

Instead of dying down, the wind increased as the players lined up to begin. Autumn noticed several people quietly performing charms, presumably for warmth, and she wished she knew a spell to do the same. As Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air, a particularly violent burst of wind tossed it away from the players.

As the Chasers scrambled to get to the Quaffle, Mandy sighed. "Well, this should be interesting," she said dryly. "Maybe the wind will score some goals for us."

Terry's habitual scowl deepened. "I don't like this wind," he said.

"Yeah, well, you don't like much of anything," Mandy said dismissively. "Sure, it's inconvenient, but it'll be entertaining to watch the players deal with it."

"That wasn't what I meant," Terry said. He raised a disapproving eyebrow as Blaise tried to snuggle closer to him for warmth. "You keep your distance."

"But I'm cold," Blaise said, looking up at Terry appealingly. "You don't want my fingers to turn blue and fall off, do you? Because that's what happens when I get cold."

"Whatever." Terry rolled his eyes and, to Autumn's surprise, stripped off his leather coat and passed it to Blaise. "There. You can wear that for the rest of the game, if it means you'll stop trying to hang all over me."

Blaise stared at the coat with the air of a believer who has been casually handed the holiest of relics. Then, lest Terry change his mind, he quickly wrapped it around his shoulders, grinning with delight. Terry rolled his eyes again and began casting a series of charms on his clothing to make up for the loss of the coat.

As the game progressed, Autumn was beginning to wish that she had a coat, instead of her cloak. The wind kept flapping the cloak wildly around her, no matter how tightly she tried to hold it closed. Looking around, she noticed that everyone else in the stands seemed to be having the same problem.

"Isn't this wind ever going to die down?" Mandy asked irritably, raising her voice a little to be heard over the gusts. "I thought it was supposed to be mostly clear today."

"Obviously not," Autumn snapped, snatching at the edge of her cloak as the wind tore it away from her yet again. "This wind is crazy!"

"I told you I didn't like it," Terry said, his hair whipping demonically around his face. "Don't you know anything about the weather?"

"I read a book on Meteorological Magery last year," Mandy said doubtfully.

Terry shook his head in irritation. "Not magic – the weather. The wind shouldn't sound this way." Autumn and Mandy looked blank. Terry exhaled sharply, his annoyance multiplying. "Doesn't anyone else ever pay attention? Listen to it!"

Autumn frowned, and concentrated on the sound of the wind. She hadn't thought much about that until Terry had mentioned it, but why should she have? It was just the wind.

Except that it wasn't. Now that she was concentrating on it, Autumn realized that the wind actually sounded like a sustained voiceless scream. "What the hell is that?" she demanded.

"What makes you think I know?" Terry said. "It's not natural, though, I can tell you that straight away."

The girl sitting in front of Terry finally turned around in exasperation. "Will you lot shut up?" she snapped. "Some of us are trying to watch the game, thank you!"

"Stop whining, Morag," Mandy said irritably. "We're talking, not obstructing your view."

"Fine, if you're going to be picky about it, I can't hear the announcer," Morag said, rolling her eyes. "Just be quiet!"

"Why do we have to be quiet?" Blaise wanted to know. "The wind isn't being quiet. It's blowing and screeching and making all sorts of noise."

Morag started to reply, but frowned suddenly. "The wind?"

"Yes, the wind," Autumn said impatiently. "You know, that great big blowing thing that's trying to knock the players out of the sky?"

Morag gave Autumn a Look. "I know what the wind is. My God, why must you Slytherins be so nasty all the time? I meant, did you say the wind is screeching? Like a person?"

"Listen for yourself," Mandy said with a shrug. "It's not like we can stop you."

Morag did so, her frown getting deeper. "That shouldn't be happening."

"Thank you, MacDougal, for that startling revelation," Terry growled. "We've covered that. If you're so fascinated by your game that you have to interrupt other people's conversations, watch the damn thing and let us be."

Morag ignored him, absorbed in her own thoughts. "I thought these winds only came in the middle of the night. I suppose I could be mistaken – after all, this isn't Ireland, so it could be different here."

"What are you talking about?" Autumn asked suspiciously. "Who cares if we're in Ireland?"

Morag blinked, resurfacing from her musings. "Well, Ireland has different types of magical inhabitants from Scotland. Really, I've only read up on the Irish types – family history and so on – but I think I came across a few Scottish versions here and there."

"Explain yourself right now, Morag, or I'll turn you into a Snitch and let Chang catch you," Terry said sharply. "What magical inhabitants are you babbling about?"

Morag smiled faintly. "And you call yourselves Ravenclaws. Really, I should think it were fairly obvious." She turned and looked out over the Quidditch pitch, where the players had finally decided to take a short recess in the hopes that it would soon become less hazardous to fly. "I think it's a banshee."


End file.
